There's No Script for Anarchy
by chussiee93
Summary: Jackson's hatred for Lisa drives him to seek revenge. But The Company has ulterior motives for letting their prized assassin live, and they plan to get to Jackson in any way they can- even if that means using the girl he hates.
1. Chapter 1

Jackson rolled over in bed, pain stabbing his side as he did so. He stared up at the ceiling, studying the brown water stain to his left and the small cracks spider-webbing their way out of a corner, the only sound in the room his ragged breathing and the steady beeping of his heart monitor. As soon as he felt the wave of nausea pass, he willed himself to stand. Move. Run. Anything to get out of this room. This suffocating mint-green room, whose only purpose in life was to remind him of his failure. Jackson hated failure. Twelve years with his company and he'd only experienced this feeling once, on a much smaller scale, when he was still a rookie. But that memory was thrown aside and replaced by this new terrible realization: Jackson was no longer a legend. He was still the best, no doubt about that. But not a legend. Employers would still ask for him, his name would stay at the top of every list; his paycheck would still be higher than every other assassin's in the US. But as far as Jackson was concerned, his reputation was destroyed. All because of a woman.

Jackson slowly stood up, gasping as his stitches stretched agonizingly across his gunshot wounds. He looked towards the door to make sure no one was watching, but of course he knew they wouldn't be. His employers had made sure that the police guarding Jackson's room wouldn't be stationed there today. This was his only shot at escaping the hospital without notice and free of complicated police interrogations and court hearings. Despite the pain, this thought spurred Jackson on as he changed into his suit, still ripped in several places and covered in dried blood, and made his way down to the lobby where his boss awaited him, patiently sipping a cup of steaming black coffee.

* * *

THREE MONTHS LATER

March 24

4:57 AM

Las Cruces, New Mexico

Jackson ducked, barely avoiding a blow to the left side of his head. He felt the man's fist skim over his sweaty brown hair. Spinning quickly, he regained his balance and found his attacker ready with another punch, this time to the abdomen. Jackson felt all the air leave his lungs as the man's fist collided with his ribs, but it only took him a second to recover; growling, he elbowed the man in the nose and swung his leg underneath his knees, straddling him against the carpeted floor. He gave his target a final smirk before shoving his knife through his chest with a satisfying crunch.

Jackson sat there, still kneeling upon the target's bleeding torso, catching his breath. He wiped away the sweat dripping from his forehead, marveling at how much of a fight the old man had put up before his death. The job was simple: get in, kill the target, get out. No details were given, no names. However, it turned out to be surprisingly difficult, what with the amount of security surrounding the hotel, camera's that needed to be taken out, body guards to be dealt with. A job that should have taken only about an hour took Jackson three and a half to complete. Ever since the attempted assassination on Charles Keefe, security levels all over the country had been raised, even for the most insignificant people. This made Jackson's life so much harder, especially now that he was on probation as an actual assassin for hire. The company had given him a second chance, with the exception that all managing positions be withheld from him for six months following his failed mission. After escaping the hospital, Jackson had worked vigorously on regaining his strength back, and since then he had successfully completed seven assignments. Much more than the other 27 hit men currently with the company had accomplished. His paycheck was decent, and he was in the best shape of his life. The company had cleaned up the mess Jackson had made, and within the following month Charles Keefe was found dead in his private home with no clues as to how it happened; doors were locked from the inside, windows unbroken, security alarms in working order. He died quickly and quietly, and the deed was done. The Russians were reimbursed for their explosives, and life had moved on. There was only one loose end, one that had been nagging Jackson and bothering him everyday since the attack. When he finally got up the courage to ask about Lisa, his employers had shrugged him off.

"She's not a liability; she's got shit for the police. Her death isn't worth my time or money." His boss smiled after he said this and turned to face Jackson. "But if you want to finish what you started back at her father's house, be my guest. I'm sure you could use a good fuck right about now."

His words hit Jackson hard. Is that what he wanted? He didn't know. Rape was not on his list of priorities, but he couldn't deny that he'd enjoy driving Lisa, especially after all the shit he had to go through because of her. Revenge was something to avoid, it always led to messy endings. But this was too personal to ignore. About a week ago, Jackson finally made up his mind; Lisa could use some company. A little visit wouldn't hurt, would it? A smirk played across his lips as he thought of the answer to that question. Yes, it would hurt. He would make sure she hurt.

Jackson stood up, wiping blood off his hands, creating a crimson line that soaked into his black t-shirt. He took one last look at the wreck he had made before turning and walking out of the room.

* * *

So........this is my first fanfiction, as some may be able to tell...I really hope it's not a complete disaster. This first chapter is a little short, but I kind of sort of know where I want to go with this, so hopefully you can expect some intense chapters comin' up. Um, so yea. Remember, reviews are love, and we should all be kind because this was my first attempt. OK. So what are we doing? We're not pressing the previous button, that's for sure. We're looking for that little green box just below this wonderful message and we're gonna click it. Think you can find it? I have faith in you. Good luck.


	2. Chapter 2

May 16

Miami, Florida

9:32 PM

Jackson stared longingly across the street towards an apartment building. There was nothing special about it, a small brick building surrounded by colorful gardens and swaying palm trees. There were buildings like this all over Miami, all Jackson had to do was walk a block in any direction and he'd see it for himself. But none of those other buildings mattered, because Lisa didn't live there.

It took a good two months after the decision to find Lisa was made to get everything prepared. The company was notified of his decision, and they offered to help him. Jackson had laughed when his boss called him in and offered up the company's resources for his use. He hadn't been allowed to go anywhere near headquarters since the Keefe mission, and he knew the only reason it was open to him now was because the company refused to see Jackson's obsession with Lisa destroy his cooperation. They wouldn't give him another chance if he failed again, but they desperately needed him on their side; he was their best. So they would help him have his fun, as long as he promised them his loyalty. That was fine with Jackson.

Now, after five months of pain, embarrassment and planning, he would finally meet Lisa again. His heart began to race as adrenaline coursed through his body and his leg bounced up and down in anticipation, making a tapping noise as it hit the steering wheel he was sitting behind. He'd never taken a job this personally; it made it difficult for him to control his emotions. And he had a lot of emotions when it came to Leese. The most obvious was hatred. God, he hated her. It was almost painful how much he hated her. Every time he looked at Lisa, his fists would clench and he would imagine curling his fingers around her neck, watching her eyes widen in panic, and a feeling of satisfaction would sweep through his body.

But then there were the other feelings hidden behind his anger. Pride, maybe? That he had helped her realize her potential? That he had been able to break through that tiny shell she had created around her, protecting her against evil rapists and annoying hotel customers? Yes, he was definitely proud of this accomplishment.

And then the most physical emotion- lust. Jackson had felt this feeling before, of course, but for some reason it was always ten times stronger when looking at Lisa. His Leese. His heart began to race again, but this time not out of anger. He loved the way her hips moved when she walked, how her ponytail bounced as she jogged in the morning, her flattened stomach, the curves of her breasts…he caught his daydream before it got out of hand and repeat his reason for doing this. Hate. Hate was a good feeling, a safe feeling. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

Jackson sighed and leaned back in his seat. In fifteen minutes, Lisa's Ford Escort would slide its way into the parking lot, and then it would only be another half hour before they met again. Looking in his rearview mirror, Jackson checked to make sure his backup was ready before closing his eyes, smiling in excitement.

* * *

9:46 PM

Lisa laughed as she ran towards her apartment building, arms over her head in an attempt to save her hair from the downpour that had started a few minutes earlier. Of course she had to pick the farthest spot in lot to park, and she was already soaking wet by the time she reached the entrance. Her hair was plastered to her face despite her attempts of rescue, and she giggled as she caught her reflection in the glass doors. It took a moment for Lisa to identify the feeling tugging at her stomach. What was that? Was she…happy? Ha! She was! She stopped in the lobby, taking a minute to bask in her realization before trudging her way up the stairs, leaving wet footprints in her wake. Her apartment was on the sixth floor, but Lisa refused to take the elevator. She had become increasingly claustrophobic ever since…well, she just didn't like the elevator.

Today was a good day. Lisa had spent the afternoon on the beach with a group of friends she had recently met, and it was the first time since…well, for a while….that she hadn't thought about her past. She felt liberated. Walking into her apartment, Lisa opened all the windows, not caring whether or not her furniture got wet. She changed out of her wet clothes into comfortable black sweats and a simple fitted t-shirt, and grabbed a snack from the kitchen before snuggling up against the couch.

After…well, about five months ago, Lisa had decided it was time for a change. She drove her way to New York (airplanes were out of the question) and splurged on a new wardrobe. She saw shows on Broadway and took a ferry across to Ellis Island. Nothing helped. Not too long after this, she moved out of her condo into a quaint little apartment ten miles away from her previous home; far enough where she didn't have to pass the reminder every day but close enough to continue working at the hotel. Ever since then, it had been her goal to create a new routine. When Friday came around, she gave up her pajamas for jeans and a low-cut top, cruising the town and introducing herself to club-life. It wasn't long before she met people and cautiously created some friendships. She had made several goals for herself, but the most difficult by far was to allow herself to trust again. So far, the people she had met seemed normal, and normal was good; normal was Lisa's new motto.

But she wasn't happy. Not really. She still had nightmares, ones where she would wake up in a sweat, the sheets tangled around her slim form. Ones that would prevent her from falling back to sleep. But the dreams that scared her most weren't filled with knives and pens; no, the ones that scared her were the dreams filled with Jackson's caress on her skin, with her leaning into his kiss. She didn't love Jackson. She hated him. Hate. An emotion she could rely on, one that kept her sane. But she couldn't deny that, on some level, she had a physical attraction towards him. That was clear from the moment she made the decision to sit next to him at the bar. Physically, she wanted him. Mentally, he scared the fuck out of her. He had tried to use her in an assassination attempt. '_He tried to kill me'._ She had to remind herself of this every time one of these dreams occurred. And they occurred more than she liked to admit to herself.

It was during one of these dreams that Lisa was startled awake. She had fallen asleep on the couch, leaving all of the windows open for the rain to continue pouring onto her carpet. Cursing, she sat up at walked over to them, rubbing her eyes and dragging her hand along her cheek to wipe off her saliva. She reached for the panes and pulled down, noticing her reflection in the glass. But it wasn't the bags under her eyes or her running makeup that made Lisa gasp; it was the shadow that stood behind her reflection. Turning, she caught a glimpse of three men standing in her living room before being pushed up against the wall behind her, one arm restraining her lower body while the other found its way to her mouth.

Jackson's eyes sparkled in the darkness as his lips brushed her ear, and his whispered words sent a shiver down Lisa's spine.

"Hey Leese. You miss me?"

* * *

Sooo...next chapter up! Yay me, I didn't think I could get it up this quickly. Not sure what I think of this chapter, but there's not much I can do about it now. I'm thinking J/L....maybe not like, lovey dovey, hardcore J/L, but still..objections? comments? suggestions? critiques? You know the drill.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't usually write notes at the beginning, so you know this is important. I want to thank everyone who reviewed to this story- it means SO much to me!!! I've never written anything in my life before, so getting positive reviews makes me feel so happy =] I probably wouldn't have kept writing without you guys, so thank you! Also, I want to apologize for this story. It's been done thousands of times and the story line is probably pretty old, but I just had to get it out of my system. Sorry if certain aspects sound like rip offs of other stories; i'm not stealing, I promise!!! It probably just means that I loved your story so much that it stuck in my mind. So you should feel honored. Um...yea so sorry if this chapter is really bad. I'm trying.

I love you all. You're all amazing. *virtual hugs*.

* * *

10:22 PM

Jackson could feel Lisa's entire body shaking beneath his firm grip. He smiled. He forgot how easy it was to scare her. Shoving his body closer to hers, he continued to whisper into her ear.

"What? You didn't think I would come back?"

Lisa could hear the smile in his voice and tried not to get sick. He paused, and it seemed to her as though he was waiting for a response, but the most she could do was let out silent tears of fear and frustration as she continued to struggle out of his grasp. His arm was pressed painfully across her stomach, pinning her to the wall and restraining one of her arms; she used her free hand to push at Jackson's chest, attempting to put space between their bodies. The hand covering her mouth made it difficult to breath, and she knew she'd have bruises there tomorrow. If she lived that long. Her eyes frantically searched the room for means of an escape, looking everywhere but his eyes. Part of her wanted to believe she was still asleep on her couch dreaming, and if she looked into his eyes she'd be forced to admit this was real. A wave of dizziness threatened to take over, but she fought to stay conscious.

Her breathing picked up as fear assaulted her senses. Jackson noticed she was having trouble receiving air against his smothering hand, and he gave her his most penetrating glare. "Lisa, I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth, and you are not going to scream. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, and thankfully he kept his promise. She took several gulps of air before finally looking into his glare. They were still the same cerulean blue as before, but time had stolen from her memory just how clear and bright they actually were. While his features read of cool and collected, his eyes told a different story. Anger and amusement were both written across the surface, but there was something else. They seemed tired, aged. Lisa felt a pang of guilt fly through her, but it left as quickly as it had come as Jackson grabbed her by the arms and turned her around, pressing her back up against him. Once again she tried to struggle, but she stopped as soon as the other two men in the room lifted their guns to her face. Jackson leaned in over her shoulder.

"Here's the thing, Leese. I'm a sore loser, I admit it. But I also don't like being stabbed in the neck with a pen and shot by a man two times my age. So I thought I'd come visit and let you have a taste of the shit you've put me through the past couple months."

Lisa let out a sob as his words sunk in. His hands tightened on her arms as he continued, his voice laced with undiluted anger.

"But before we can have our fun, we need to get a few things straight." He nodded to the men holding the guns. "See those guys? You try _anything_ and they won't hesitate to shoot. We're in charge, and as long as you do what we say, you'll stay alive. Are we clear?" When she didn't answer, he leaned his head in closer to her face.

"Hm?" They stood there in silence for a moment before she let her head sag in defeat, and Jackson smiled. "Good," he reached into his pocket and took out a syringe, "'cause you're no good to me dead." He plunged the needle into her neck and released the fluid. She cried out in shock, but it wasn't long until her body began to relax in his grip and Jackson let her fall to the ground unconscious.

Stepping over Lisa's crumpled body, he walked out into the hallway to make sure no one heard the commotion that had just taken place. Satisfied, he turned and found his men carrying Lisa towards the door. They had taken out the camera system before coming into the building, so the only obstacle left was carrying Lisa through the halls without too many prying eyes. The plan was to let Jackson take her first, so if anyone asked he could play the part of concerned boyfriend, telling them she had fainted or was intoxicated- anything believable. His guys would follow ten minutes later so not to draw attention to the fact that three armed men had just walked out of an apartment carrying its unconscious occupant through the halls.

Jackson took Lisa into his arms and made it out to his car with only one curious neighbor offering assistance. He laid her in the backseat, duct taping her wrists and ankles, before getting into the car himself and pulling away. The company had a Florida safe house that wasn't far from where Lisa lived, maybe a four hour drive. They would stay there until things settled, and only then would he decide what to do with her. He didn't want to kill her, but if attention was drawn to the fact that she was missing, it wouldn't be long until her disappearance was traced back to him. Not that they would find him, but this wasn't the time to get reckless; his job was hanging in the balance.

Jackson looked in his rearview mirror and traced his eyes over Lisa's sleeping form. She looked so peaceful. This was probably the first time since the flight that she'd slept free of nightmares, no matter that it took a powerful sedating drug to accomplish it. Her hair fell gracefully across her closed eyes, and her lips were parted slightly, making Jackson fall into another of his twisted daydreams. He forced his eyes back onto the road, clearing his head of all fantasies and turned his attention to driving. He'd have his fun, he just needed to be patient.

The sky was dark as he drove past empty beaches and late-night partiers. He snapped on the radio, flipping through several stations before giving up and turning it off again. Keeping his eyes trained on the highway, he drove the rest of the two hours in silence, waiting for Lisa to wake up.

* * *

1:58 AM

Lisa let out a soft groan as she slowly regained consciousness. Her mouth was dry and her head pounded in pain. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she was tempted to drift back to sleep until she heard her named being sung from somewhere close by. The voice held a slight rasp to it, barely recognizable, but there none the less. Lisa shut her eyes tighter, hoping beyond belief that she was dreaming, but her name still cut through the air.

"Lisa…Leese, I know your awake back there. Come on, talk to me."

Sighing, she slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying in the backseat of a car, Jackson looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"Morning, sleepyhead! It's about time you got up." Jackson smiled as she lifted herself up into a sitting position and brought her tied hands up to her forehead. He seemed much more relaxed now that he had gotten her out of the apartment without difficulty. Lisa cleared her throat.

"How long was I out?"

He glanced back at her, obviously pleased that she had spoken to him. "About three hours now."

Lisa scrunched her eyebrows together in concentration. If she was going to get out of this she'd have to focus- which was hard to do at the moment with the drug still clouding her mind. Three hours. That must mean they were still in Florida. She turned towards the window searching through the dark for signs that might tell her where they were, but they were driving along a dirt road with a few trees littering the area around them. No signs pointed the direction, but Jackson obviously knew where he was going. Looking up into the mirror, she met his stare and decided to pull as much information out of him as possible. She put on her best mask of fearlessness, but the tremor in her voice was impossible to hide.

"Where are you taking me?"

He considered the question, and after a pause he went with an honest answer. "The Company has safe houses in every state, that way employees have a place to go if they need to lay low for a while. We're going to the Florida house, we should be there any minute now."

She held his gaze as he answered. He seemed to be telling her the truth, and she took it as a sign to continue. "Why did you come back?"

He laughed. "Leese, I could explain it to in ten different languages and you still wouldn't be satisfied. You'd only get more upset if I told you." Looking into the mirror, he continued. "It's not worth the headache. And besides, I think you know why I came back."

She did know why. Noticing her hands were turning blue, she squeezed her wrists together to allow circulation and was rewarded with a tingling feeling as blood rushed into her fingers. Looking up, she saw that they were quickly approaching a large house in the distance. She began to panic and felt her survival instincts kicking in. Fear turned to anger and she her turned towards her captor.

"Are you going to kill me, Jackson? Is that what you want to do? I kicked your ass and fucked up your life, so you came back to teach me a lesson?" She could see his knuckles whiten against the steering wheel, but she didn't stop. "I can't imagine how it must have felt to be beaten by a woman. Were you embarrassed, Jackson? Is that what it is? I hurt your ego, so you came back to prove that you can beat me? Well congratulations, it only took two men with guns, a roll of duct tape and some drugs to kidnap a woman half your size." Her mind screamed for her to stop, but as they pulled into the driveway she added one last insult onto her dangerously growing list. "You're pathetic."

That did it.

Jackson's eyes were cold as he got out of the car and made his way around to Lisa. Opening her door, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her against the side of the car, grabbing her chin and shoving his face into hers. He was so close that Lisa could see herself reflected in his angry eyes. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek as he started speaking.

"In case you haven't noticed, Leese, you're really not in any position to insult me. I've been in a really bad mood for a_ really _long time now, and I've been waiting to take it out on someone. So I'd be more careful if I were you."

They stood there for a moment breathing heavily, Jackson out of anger, Lisa out of fear. She had to be more careful in the future, she couldn't let her emotions get the better of her. Giving her face a final squeeze, he took Lisa in his arms and started carrying her across the yard toward the front door.

"Welcome home, Leese."

* * *

Reviews are love. I'll update soon. Don't worry. Unless you don't care, then you probably weren't worrying in the first place. =]


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

AN: So...there is absolutely no excuse for how long it took to update. All I can say is...I'm sorry. I will try and do better next time. This chapter isn't exactly the best one yet, and it took me FOREVER to write, and I was pretty close to giving up, and it's really short which I apologize for, but this was the chapter that sort of got me where I wanted to be. I don't know if that makes sense.

Anyway, I'm sorry for taking so long and I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't worth waiting for, but I worked very hard on it and I hope you enjoy.

_5__ months ago…_

_Charles Westley leaned back against his leather chair and let out a sigh. It had been 30 minutes since he'd paged Ivonov, he should have heard back from the bastard by now. 'I swear to God, if that son of a bitch lied to me I'll slit his throat right in front of that whore wife of his...'_

_Rubbing his hand across his blood-shot eyes, Charles left his murderous thoughts to stray and scanned his office. He had been head of the Company for over 10 years now, yet his workspace had essentially stayed unchanged. A dark cherry wood desk stood in front of a large glass window, which allowed him a breathtaking view of the New York skyline. The desk was littered with memos and case files, all of which Charles should have been sorting through and organizing, but he wasn't focused on those at the moment. No, for the last half an hour, Mr. Westley had been anxiously awaiting a phone call from a contact of his in Russia. He paced across his carpeted floor, he shredded papers, he unloaded and reloaded his .45 auto, but in the end he found himself exactly where he had started; at his desk, staring at the obstinately quiet phone. _

_His leg bounced up and down in anticipation. The _tick-ticks_ from the clock pierced the air as they announced every agonizing second in which Westley felt he had no control over his own company. Ever since the leak in the company had exposed them to their competitors, things had been out of hand. It all came down to this one call…_

_The phone trilled for only a second before Westley's hand shot out and silenced it. "Tell me something good."_

_A deep voice answered, marred only slightly by his thin Russian accent. "It's no good. They found our informant, he was killed about an hour ago."_

"_What did they get?"_

"_As far as I know, nothing substantial. They know the company, a few names- lower level, no one important. They're pissed though; you need someone to fall back on. They're willing to go the extra mile to finish this."_

"_How much time do we have?"_

"_Not much. Five, maybe six months."_

_Charles sighed in relief. This whole deal was going to be a pain in the ass, but at least he finally knew what was happening on the other end. He opened a drawer and pulled out a folder he had hidden near the bottom._

"_Don't worry. That's more than enough time."_

_Ivonov started to say something else, but Westley hung up on him. He opened the folder and skimmed the profile briefly before landing on the ID photo, where a pair of crystalline eyes stared unseeingly back at their employer._

* * *

Present Day

2:07 AM

"No, Jackson, please! Let me go, you don't want to do this!" Lisa struggled against Jackson's controlling grip as they made their way to the front door, becoming more panicked with each step. She bucked and wriggled against his muscular body, but that only caused Jackson to tighten his hold on her as he let out an exasperated growl.

She needed to get away; as soon as they reached the house, there would be no chance of escape, and she knew that.

They were halfway across the yard when Lisa snapped. She needed air; Jackson was too close. A wave of claustrophobia overcame her and she renewed her struggle to get away. Jackson ignored her movement as best he could until a flailing elbow caught him in the lip, where he lost his grip and dropped her. Lisa felt his hands disappear and a wave of relief washed through her panicked body, but the relief disappeared as soon as she hit the ground with a breathtaking thud. Her hands and feet were still bound, but that didn't discourage Lisa as she tried desperately to crawl away. She barely moved an inch, however, before Jackson's surprise left him and he bent down to grab her.

Lisa was forced to turn and was satisfied to see a pool of crimson dripping from his bottom lip. Her satisfaction was short lived, however, before his hands circled around her slim neck and cut off her supply of oxygen. "Always the fighter, Leese. I admire that, really, I do. Although I think I should warn you"- he leaned in closer until their noses brushed –"your fighting isn't going to save you this time."

Lisa tried to scream but the hands around her neck allowed nothing but a small whimper to escape. Jackson held on tight to her throat until her eyes closed and she stopped moving. Checking her pulse, he let out the air he had been holding and leaned back, staring- once again -at Lisa's unconscious form. He shook his head. _'Jeez, Lisa, I forgot what a pain in the ass you could be.' _

Jackson sighed and gently pulled Lisa into his arms. He brushed her hair out of her face and cradled her against his body as he made his way across the yellowing grass.

The place they were staying was large, with bullet-proof windows and plain white walls. There was barely any furniture, since it was used for short-term visits only. A living room engulfed most of the bottom floor, accompanied by a kitchen and a small bathroom. Upstairs was mostly work-related. There were several offices and two bedrooms, the latter of which Lisa was kept until she regained consciousness.

Jackson went to the kitchen and sat at the table, looking for something to keep him occupied while he waited for Lisa to awake. He leaned down and grabbed his bag, where he took out a folder marked 'Rippner'. Inside were lists of jobs yet to be accomplished, names to be studied, variables to sort through. It was while Jackson was exploring this folder that he received his first phone call.

The small motorola phone buzzed against the table, causing Jackson to look up from his studying. He picked up the vibrating cel and checked the caller ID- which read "UNKOWN" –before answering it.

"Rippner."

A deep computerized voice replied to Jackson's greeting. "You've made an awfully big mistake, Mr. Rippner."

Confused, Jackson pulled the phone away and checked the number again before putting it back to his ear.

"Who is this?"

A minute of silence from the other line made Jackson think they had lost connection, and he was about to hang up before he heard the muffled voice again.

"You better run."

* * *

So do not fear- I actually have the next part written! It's just a matter of getting some reviews before I update again, so if you want the next chapter soon, i'd review. Thanks for reading!!!


	5. Chapter 5

So here's what happened. Basically after posting the last chapter, I realized I messed up on my original plot outline. I was really pissed at myself for a while, considered rewriting the last chapter, figured that would probably be dumb, gave up on the story altogether, then- several MONTHS later- realized that I could probably fix the mistake and just keep writing. So that's what I did. I apologize for the emotional breakdown that lasted longer than any emotional breakdown should ever last.

This chapter was written in a total of two hours because I felt so bad about giving up on it, so I'm sorry if it isn't up to par. But at least I actually _wrote_ another chapter. Now that I got my creative juices flowing again, I figured out how I can somewhat repair the damaged story line, so you don't have to worry about another 2309842390 year wait.

* * *

2:44 AM

Lisa awoke to a dull throbbing in her throat. She groaned and quietly coughed, trying to reduce the tickling sensation that coursed through her lungs. Opening her eyes slowly, she found herself in a dimly lit room lying on a hard bed, moonlight streaming in from the single window next to her. There was barely any furniture, only a dresser and a wooden chair, which made her feel as though she was thrown in a prison cell; which, essentially, she was.

'_At least he didn't chain me to the bed or anything.'_

A sudden alertness overcame Lisa's senses, and the urge to move itched through her limbs. She needed to _do _something, keep her mind busy. She didn't know how long she was out, but Jackson could check on her any minute, something which she wanted to be prepared for when it happened.

Keeping her ears open in case of a surprise visit, Lisa cautiously moved her stiff legs over to the edge of the bed and slowly stood up, wincing as her sore muscles protested against the movement. She scanned the bare room for any makeshift weapons, but the only somewhat useful thing was the chair. Unsatisfied, Lisa tried a different tactic. She walked over to the door and grasped the knob, not the least bit surprised when it didn't turn. Not yet discouraged, she turned towards the window. It looked like she was on the second floor, not too high up. If she could break the window and somehow get out…she might end up with a broken ankle, but it was certainly a risk worth taking.

Lisa was across the room and back, wooden chair in hand, before she even began thinking about the consequences of actually breaking through the glass. The chair was over her head, body tensed and ready to strike, when the sound of someone unlocking the door stopped her. There was just enough time to turn and replace the chair before Jackson came bursting through, gun in hand, striding determinedly towards her shaking figure.

* * *

2:44 AM

'_You better run.' _

Jackson stiffened. His mind blanked for a second before millions of instructions flooded his brain. Jackson stood, organizing his thoughts. Anger and adrenaline coursed through his veins; anger that anyone should dare threaten him, especially over the phone, and adrenaline because he knew the threat was legitimate and he needed to move. Pushing the first emotion aside for now, Jackson began gathering the paperwork in front of him. He needed to get himself and Lisa out of the house, knowing that whoever called would not sound so smug if he didn't know of Jackson's whereabouts already. _'They're tracking me…' _Acting on this thought, Jackson threw his phone against the linoleum and crushed it with his foot before swiftly walking out of the room towards the stairs.

Never quickening his calm, steady pace, Jackson reached Lisa's door and unlocked it with one hand, taking out his gun with the other.

Lisa stood in the corner and Jackson quietly cursed her under his breath. There wasn't time to deal with her stubbornness; it would've been much easier to carry her out to the car. Keeping his annoyance hidden, he quickly walked towards her. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her in the direction of the door. Lisa fought against his grip and ripped her arm away from his grasp before they had even taken two steps.

Jackson turned and met her glare. He held out his hand, "Lisa, we need to go."

Not fooled by his act of concern, she tried putting on a defiant exterior. Still, the tremor in her voice was painfully obvious as she asked the first thing that came to her mind. "Where?"

His face hardened. "I'm not going to waste my time explaining to you. Either you stay here and die or come with me and live a little while longer. Your choice."

The 'a little while longer' didn't escape her notice. "Is there a third choice?" She wasn't sure what prompted this question, her sarcastic stubbornness or her fear.

Jackson just stared at her, obviously not amused. Lisa knew she really had no option but to go with him, although she made no move forward. She thought through the choices. She was dead either way, but the question still stood: should she wait to face the unknown danger, or let Jackson finish her off in some awful, sadistic way?

She hardly got further than that thought, though, when Jackson's patience snapped. He let out a frustrated growl and wrapped his hand at the base of her neck, dragging her across the room by her hair. Lisa let out an involuntary scream of pain and struggled against him. Jackson paid no attention to the blows she dealt his chest and arms as he hauled her down the stairs and out the door.

As soon as they stepped outside, Lisa was able to focus. Ignoring the searing pain in her head, she twisted around and kneed Jackson in the groin, at the same time punching him, hard, in the neck. Jackson doubled over in shock and pain, his grip loosening just enough for Lisa to pull away and grab the keys he held in his opposite hand. Without looking back, Lisa sprinted towards the car parked at the end of the driveway.

Adrenaline directed her movements, and even when she thought she was running as fast as possible, her legs seemed to speed up as Jackson's heavy footsteps and labored breath sounded behind her. Fear spiked and she forced herself not to turn around, to keep going, but a part of her knew she wouldn't make it to the car. This thought didn't stop her, though, and she was actually able to open the car door before Jackson's body slammed against hers.

All the air was forced out of her lungs from the impact, and her head collided against the roof of the car. She was disoriented as Jackson forced her body around to face his. His fist crashed into the side of her face and Lisa was thrown to the ground, her hands and knees scraping against the asphalt. Darkness threatened to take over, but Lisa fought against the wave of dizziness and looked up. Jackson stood staring at her, breathing heavily and absently rubbing his throat. His jaw clenched and he kneeled down, taking Lisa's chin tightly between his fingers. Lisa tried pulling away, but stopped in shock as blood dripped from her forehead into her eyes, gradually blocking her vision. She moved her hand up to wipe away the wetness, but Jackson gripped her wrist before it could get to her face.

He spoke slowly and quietly, as if he was talking to a child. "This is your last warning Lisa. Try another stunt like that and I won't let you off as easy. A beating'll be the least of your worries. Understand?"

Slowly, Lisa nodded. Jackson let go and abruptly pulled her to her feet.

"Get in the car."

Trembling from pain and panic, Lisa wiped the blood from her eyes and obediently got into the passenger seat. Jackson followed suit and eased them out of the driveway. He immediately looked into the rearview mirror, noticing how quiet the surrounding landscape of the retreating house was. There were no obvious threats, and he suddenly realized that his caller may have wanted him to leave the house and come out into the open. They turned a corner onto the main road, which meant there was no going back, now that they were out in public. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. Why hadn't he thought this through before running, unprepared, out of his only source of protection? A year ago, he would have been more cautious…now, though…

They were rapidly approaching a fork in the road. The main road continued to the right, taking them to the highway, and a small dirt road to the left offered a shortcut into the city. Ignoring the obvious highway route, Jackson made a quick decision and veered left onto the smaller path. He sped up and allowed himself to think about what had just happened.

Whoever called him knew his number and his whereabouts, which meant that the caller had either been watching him for a while now ("_and doing a fucking good job at it…")_, or they personally knew him and knew where he was going to be. Jackson liked to believe he'd be too careful to allow anyone the opportunity to stalk him, but considering the mistake he had just made had him thinking he might be losing his touch. Still, it was hard to believe that someone, even a professional, could find that kind of information without Jackson even suspecting. No one was _that _good.

Which meant only one thing. Someone within the company must want him dead. _"Who the hell knows for _what _though. Those bastards just spent five months and $10,000,000 keeping me alive." _Even besides this thought, his theory seemed to make sense. They knew everything there was to know about the infamous Jackson Rippner, and they had all the information they needed to go after him. They were the only people who knew he was staying at the safe house this weekend. They had his number, his fingerprints, access to his accounts, criminal records…

Lisa's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Jackson, someone's following us."

Jackson snapped his gaze up to the rearview mirror and cursed. An inconspicuous black Serrano trailed smoothly behind them. Angry at himself for not noticing, he offered a brusque, "I know, Leese."

"Well they've been following us for fifteen minutes now and you haven't done anything, so I'm sorry if I wanted to voice my concern."

Sarcasm dripped from Lisa's voice, but she was in too much pain to care. She noticed Jackson's jaw clench but he didn't say anything, only sped up. They weaved quickly in and out of the city's traffic, the trailing car never leaving their bumper. Suddenly, Jackson spun the wheel and skidded down a side street, glancing at Lisa. "You might want to buckle up."

Jackson slammed his foot on the gas and the Lisa gasped, frantically searching for her seat belt. Horns blared as they cut people off and sped through red traffic lights, each time steering dangerously close into the opposite lane. The black Serrano kept up nicely for several minutes until Jackson unexpectedly cut in front of a car, causing a major pile up in the middle of an intersection. Lisa turned in time to see the Serrano smash into a stopped car, effectively stopping the chase. Even though the car was no longer able to follow, Jackson kept up his maniacal speed.

Throughout this entire ordeal, Lisa had held onto her seat for dear life. Every sharp turn caused Lisa to shriek in pure panic, sure that Jackson would get them killed. Annoyed that he was still speeding past traffic, she yelled at him.

"Jackson, I think you can slow down now."

He ignored this, and just to annoy Lisa, pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

"Seriously, slow down. You're gonna get us killed!"

"Leese, I can guarantee they weren't the only people following us."

Jackson turned the wheel so suddenly the car lifted off the ground for a moment. "Jesus Christ, Jack no one's following us! Slow the fuck down!"

The next few moments were a blur. Lisa saw Jackson face her, his angry eyes leaving the road for a moment. Behind him, a car came barreling down a side street, never stopping, even after it became obvious he was going to crash into Jackson's Mercedes. The last thing Lisa remembers before blacking out is making eye contact with the suicidal driver and seeing, more than feeling, their car flip over and scrape against the asphalt on impact.

* * *

I feel like every chapter so far ends with Lisa unconscious. hahaha. I'll have to work on that. It just happened to fit into the story here. Please review!!! That will definitely help me keep myself motivated to continue writing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much for all the reviews! A few people were asking about the caller and what Jackson's boss was planning. I know I said earlier I messed up on the plot line a bit, but it didn't affect this important part of the story (thank god). I've known from the very beginning what was going on with the company and why the caller wants to kill Jackson, so I'm not just making this up as I go along. Well, I sort of am. But not the important stuff. So anyway, don't worry. All secrets will be revealed soon enough. You'll just have to keep reading :)**

* * *

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. One moment, Jackson was turning to yell at Lisa, maybe even hit her; his temper had been rather sore lately and the use of his nickname had really mad him angry. But before he could even pull his hand away from the steering wheel, metal met metal and the gentle humming of the car was replaced by the loudest and most unpleasant sound Jackson had ever heard in his life. His body was shoved roughly against the restraints of his seatbelt and the airbag exploded in his face. Shards of glass stuck him and through his shock he could vaguely feel the dented metal of the car ramming into his legs. The Mercedes flipped over twice before finally screeching to a stop against the unforgiving pavement.

There was a moment of intense silence following the crash. The two destroyed cars hissed quietly, and every pedestrian stopped in surprise to survey the scene. A scream suddenly shattered the quiet and several of the more valiant men rushed over to try and help. Jackson, still in a state of shock, was disoriented and took deep breaths to try and regain movement in his arms. It didn't take long until his body was suddenly aware of the injuries it had suffered, and Jackson was assaulted with an intense amount of pain. He seemed to have somehow fallen out of his seatbelt, because he was lying haphazardly out of his side window face down on the ground. Groaning, Jackson slowly pulled himself forward until he was completely free of the destroyed car. He rolled over and lay in the glass for a moment, waving off the people offering to help him, and assessed his injuries.

The upper half of his body, apart from the cuts and bruises that covered it, seemed to be fine. It was his left leg that was giving him problems. Jackson sat up and looked at the leg that was bent at an impossible angle. There was a huge cut running down the side where the car door had jammed into it, and every little movement sent spasms of pain through his entire body. _'Suck it up, Jackson. Just stop the bleeding and you'll be fine.' _

Taking a deep breath, Jackson steeled himself to get up. Relying on his right leg for support, he groaned in pain as he slowly stood and took his first look at the wreck around him. Glass was strewn everywhere, and two men were carefully pulling an unconscious Lisa out of the debris. The car was lying on its roof, but besides the rather large dent in the passenger's side door and the broken windows, the Mercedes seemed to have handled herself pretty well. He turned and looked at the car that had rammed into them, and saw with sick satisfaction the driver lying motionless against the steering wheel, blood gushing out of his forehead.

Ignoring the excited people gathering around the accident, he limped over to the suicidal assassin's car and opened the door, dragging the corpse onto the ground. He disregarded the quizzical looks people were sending his way as he quickly searched through the man's pockets. He ended up with $57 cash and an ID. _'Better than nothing.'_ Without giving the man a second glance, Jackson limped over to the back of the car. He opened the door, which was spared any significant damage, and stopped in astonishment at what he found waiting for him. Resting on the floor was a first aid kit and attached to it, a manila folder. A bright pink bow was carefully positioned on the top of the kit. A post-it was placed on the center of the folder, and Jackson quickly bent down to read the neat hand writing adorning the paper.

_To: Mr. Jackson T. Rippner._

_A gift, if you should survive. To make the chase more…interesting._

Recovering from his surprise, Jackson debated whether he should take it. Curiosity won out, however, and he grabbed the case and turned back to face his Mercedes. Lisa had been pulled out of the car and was being held by a young man, probably in his late twenties. She was surrounded by people, and through the buzz of conversation Jackson distinctly heard sirens growing louder in the distance.

He took two limps forward and stopped. He hated to admit it, but he knew he couldn't get Lisa now; he'd have to come back for her later. Even after making this decision, though, Jackson stood there motionless, staring at Lisa, a sudden feeling of regret and sadness overcoming him. She was bleeding all over, and she looked so helpless and vulnerable lying motionless in some handsome stranger's arms. Jackson had the sudden urge to go over and shove the man away, to be the one to cradle her broken body, to gently wipe away the blood from her neck. She was his. No one else's. He watched as the man carefully moved a curl away from Lisa's face and Jackson just barely suppressed an immense feeling of anger and jealousy. The only thing that saved him from walking over and putting a bullet in between that man's eyes were the ambulance sirens that were now only a few blocks away.

It took all of Jackson's willpower to turn and limp away from the scene. He ignored the searing pain in his leg as he walked as quickly as possible past the sea of onlookers, but most were too busy surveying the destroyed cars to notice him.

"Whoa, buddy, the ambulances are gonna be here any minute, you gotta wait!"

Apparently, not everyone was as oblivious as Jackson liked to think. He ignored the yeller and kept limping forward.

The guy wouldn't take no for an answer. A college kid caught up easily with Jackson and gently, but firmly, grabbed his arm.

"Seriously, dude, you're a mess. You have to get that leg checked out."

Jackson gripped the kid's wrist and twisted it until he was almost kneeling on the ground.

"Fuck, dude let go of me!"

Jackson bent down. "I'm leaving." And with that, he let go of the kid and kept walking.

He turned the corner just in time to see two flashing vehicles speed past him. People were staring at him as he walked down the street. His clothes were torn and he was covered in blood, but Jackson kept walking until the pain in his leg was too much to bear. Feeling lightheaded, he turned into a coffee shop and went directly towards the bathroom. It was a small shop, so there was only a single bathroom, which Jackson gratefully entered and locked the door. He slid onto the cold tiles and turned his attention to the first aid kit. He unlatched the locks and opened it, curious to find what might be hiding underneath the lid. But there was nothing interesting inside, just some standard gauze and other medical miracles.

Jackson ripped the leg of his jeans open and took out the tweezers, pulling shards of glass from his bleeding leg and other parts of his body. He cleaned the wounds and stitched himself up, thinking back on all the times he had been forced to quickly sew up his injuries in the past. This was the first time, though, where he was actually supplied with a legitimate first aid kit. Usually he had to make do with what he had already, which was generally not much. Why would the man who was trying to kill him give him the supplies needed to heal himself? Wouldn't it make more sense to kill him while he was injured and unprepared? While he was lying disoriented under 2 tons of crushed metal, maybe?

None of it made any sense. But Jackson was slowly coming to the conclusion that this wasn't directly related to company business. If it was, they would have made his death quick and quiet; they wouldn't have chased him through a crowded city and left him to fix himself up after their lame attempt to murder him. Looking back at the whole situation, Jackson had to smile. _'Jesus, these assholes are stupid. They went out to kill me and got their own hit man killed instead.'_

Jackson laughed at that. God, people were dumb. He kept laughing as he started cleaning up the bloody napkins surrounding him. It wasn't until he turned to throw them in the trash when he noticed the manila envelope tossed into a corner. He reached over to pick it up, and then hesitated. Did he want to see what was in there? His mystery killer obviously did, but should he play by the rules and read the papers hidden inside, or rip it up and walk out of the bathroom knowing no more than he did right now, just that he had claimed a small victory in this pointless mind game? He didn't like the idea of doing exactly what was expected of him, but once again his curiosity beat his stubbornness.

He lifted the cover and instantly regretted ever taking the envelope.

* * *

When Lisa awoke, she found herself in a swaying ambulance lying on a gurney. Confused, she thought back to why she might be surrounded by nurses, and was instantly greeted with sharp memories of the crash. She started feeling panicky and immediately looked around the vehicle, letting out a sigh of relief when she didn't recognize a single person seated next to her. No Jackson. He was gone.

A nurse noticed she was awake and he came over to her. "Miss, you've been in an accident. We'll be at the hospital in a few minutes, but I'd like you to try and keep still for me, ok?"

Lisa nodded her head in reply. She looked up at the man in scrubs. "Am I ok?"

"You were scratched up quite a bit. You'll probably need some stitches, and I wouldn't be surprised if you had a mild concussion. We'll know more once we get to the hospital, but you don't seem to have any major injuries."

He was about to turn away, but Lisa reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Please, was there anyone else?"

"Sorry?"

She swallowed. Swallowing hurt. "Anyone else in the car? A guy maybe? Brown hair, blue eyes?"

The nurse shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. At least, he wasn't there when we showed up."

Lisa nodded and let out a sigh of relief. She turned her head and was about to close her eyes again when she noticed another man sitting next to her. She looked at him and was alarmed when she noticed he wasn't wearing the standard EMT uniform.

"Who are you?"

The man seemed taken aback by her accusatory tone. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, obviously unsure of what to say and looking extremely awkward. His lack of assurance calmed Lisa, and her apprehension slowly turned to amusement as she patiently awaited an answer.

"I, um…" he cleared his throat. "Well, I helped pull you out of the…you know…accident, and when the ambulance got here, I figured I should come with you and make sure you got to the hospital ok. I thought maybe I could contact someone once we got there or…something."

He finished lamely and Lisa repressed a laugh. She was no longer afraid of this stranger. Surely someone who wanted to kill her would have more confidence?

She smiled at him, unable to feel angry or violated. "Well, thank you for your concern." She painfully held out a hand to him. "I'm Lisa."

The man smiled, relieved she wasn't angry, and quickly shook her hand. Lisa noticed her fingers were covered in blood and she was immediately embarrassed, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'm Greg. Well, actually I'm Gregory O'Hara III, but everyone just calls me Greg…" He trailed off looking embarrassed again, and this time Lisa really did laugh.

The ambulance came to a stop and the back doors opened. Two nurses pulled the gurney out into the parking lot, ignoring Lisa's insistence that she could walk by herself. Greg followed as they rolled her into the Emergency Room, and Lisa stole glimpses of him through her peripheral vision.

He _looked _normal enough. He was tall, with green eyes and dark, almost black hair. He was well built, and Lisa guessed he was in his mid to late twenties. He was really quite handsome, and if it wasn't for his timidity, she would be completely suspicious of her good fortune. As it were, however, she let him follow her into the emergency room and wait as the doctor examined her cuts and bruises.

Three hours and 26 stitches later, Lisa found herself sitting in front of the doctor, Greg sitting in a chair in the corner. Lisa was happy he had stayed with her. She knew she should be cautious, what with her awful male-track record, but deep down, she felt safe with him around.

An old graying doctor stood in front of her, reading her report. "Well, Ms. Reisert, you seem to be fine. I'd like you to stay overnight just so we can watch out for that mild concussion of yours."

She nodded and waited for the doctor to leave, but he stood over her looking puzzled.

"You got mighty bruised up in that accident."

'_No shit, Sherlock.' _Lisa covered up her annoyance with a polite nod of the head, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't mean to be too forward but…There were a few contusions that didn't quite match up with the accident report." He paused, looking awkward. "Lisa, has someone…physically abused you recently?"

Lisa froze. She had made up her mind in the ambulance that she wasn't going to tell anyone about Jackson. As much as she hated him, she wasn't sure she wanted to go to the police with her story. She knew they wouldn't be able to protect her, and they most she would accomplish by telling them would be provoking Jackson to come back. So she looked up at the doctor with feigned confusion.

"No…why?"

"The bruises that usually result from car crashes are created from blunt impact, and they're usually rather dark and large. When I was examining you, however, I noticed there were several small bruises circling your neck, almost as if…as if someone had tried to strangle you. Also, some of your bruises are a different shade than your newer ones from the accident, which means you already had them before the crash…" He stopped and took a breath, looking Lisa directly in the eyes. "If someone was hurting you, Lisa, I want you to know that you can trust us to help. That's why we're here."

Lisa felt a prickling behind her eyes, but forced herself to remain emotionless. The police couldn't get involved. She couldn't deal with that again. She put on a smile and shook her head. "No one's tried to hurt me. I promise."

The doctor didn't look convinced, but he nodded and walked out the door. Lisa let out the air she had been holding. Greg came over and sat next to her, keeping his distance. Lisa glanced over at him. "So. Now what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Is there someone you want me to contact for you, or something?"

Lisa thought about asking him to call her father, but what would she tell him? _Hi dad. Sorry I went missing yesterday, Jackson Rippner came and kidnapped me, and then we got into an accident. _Yea, right. She needed some time to think about this, first.

He took her silence as discomfort. "Or I could just go…"

Lisa quickly shook her head and grabbed Greg's arm as he went to stand up. "No, please. Can you just stay here for a little while longer?" She didn't want to be alone, and for some reason she trusted this man.

Greg sat back down and smiled. "Sure, Lisa."

And, keeping his promise, he stayed with her the whole night.

* * *

**This chapter was a little long and tedious, BUT- Lisa is concious at the end. And it leads into the next chapter nicely. The next post will definitely answer some of your frequently asked questions. So stay tuned. And review, people!!! Leave your thoughts, comments, anything. I love hearing from you guys. **


	7. Chapter 7

Wow. It's been way too long since I last updated. There's been a looooot going on recently, what with midterms and SATs and a death in the family...All I can say is I'm sorry.

So here's the next chapter for your enjoyment. Just a few comments, because I had to refresh my memory when I was writing this, so I thought I'd make sure everyone was up to speed. This chapter starts with Charles Westley, who is Jackson's boss and the head of the Company that Jackson works for. When we saw him last, he was conversing with Ivonov, his Russian informant. So remember those characters! And a new character (who is very important, so pay close attention to his name) is introduced. Oh, and I jump back and forth with the time here. The first part with Westley is before Jackson kidnaps Lisa, as you'll see. And I forgot specific times in the last chapter, so if you do the math, the car accident happened in the early morning of **May 17****th**. I like keeping track of the time.

So there you have it. Some questions will be answered and we get to find out what happens to Lisa and Greg. Ok, read on.

* * *

_4 Weeks Ago, April 20…_

"_You're sure he said the 17__th__?"_

"_Yeah. He has everything ready. This guy's a sick bastard, though; he wants to drag this thing out."_

_Charles Westley sighed. He knew it was only a matter of time before Fedorov decided to go through with the assassination, but he honestly thought he'd have been notified of the date sooner. Ivonov was a prestigious manager and assassin in the Russian branch of the Company and kept Charles updated on most all of their plans, but even _he_ wasn't informed until the very last minute. Information was kept from a majority of the people in the Company; it was a precautionary measure in case someone was selling information. Which, of course, was exactly what Ivonov was doing. And it was costing Westley a pretty penny, too. But he didn't care. He needed to keep his name out of this shit, and if it cost him $5 million a phone call to frame Rippner, so be it. _

"_What do you mean by 'drag it out'?"_

_Ivonov sighed on the other end. "Fedorov has trouble controlling his temper. You really pissed him off. It's not even about the money, it's about, how do you say… _praid, _pride. He's the head of our company and has never had a problem until now. How is someone, during a routine explosives transaction, able to steal billions of dollars from our secure bank accounts? That does not happen. He wants whoever was responsible for this to understand fully the consequences of his actions before he is killed."_

"_So you mean torture." _

"_Yes. But it's like game for Fedorov. He enjoys it. He likes the chase more than the actual murder, he toys with his victims."_

_Charles didn't understand why Ivonov sounded so concerned over something so trivial. He'd tortured plenty of people in the past and hadn't given it a second thought. And although it wasn't exactly fun and games for him, torture came with the business. It was something you learned to deal with._

_He shook his head and decided not to worry about Ivonov's strange concern. "Yeah, well the sooner this is over the better. I'll make sure he's there on the 17__th__. Did you get the documents I sent?"_

"_Yes, I already handed them over. I think Fedorov is planning to give them to Rippner at some point before he kills him."_

"_Good." Charles cracked his neck, his face emotionless. "Let's finish this."_

_He hung up without waiting for a reply. Reaching for his cell, he called Jackson who was downstairs in the gun range and told him to come to his office immediately. He sat down at his desk and gathered up the papers strewn across the wooden surface, erasing all signs of his plans to frame Rippner. He had just stowed away his profile report when there was a knock on the door._

"_Come in."_

_The door opened and Jackson strode coolly across the carpeted floor. He looked good. He was back in shape and the air of confidence he had lost after the Keefe assignment had finally returned. Charles knew the Reisert bitch was the only thing keeping him motivated at the moment, but it still impressed him how quickly he was able to overcome such a devastating failure. Really, it was too bad he had to kill him. The kid had potential._

_Jackson stood in front of the desk and waited for Westley to speak. _

_He looked Jackson in the eye and made sure his face stayed stoic. "A client has been in contact with me recently, asking for a job to be completed in three months time. I need you to oversee it."_

_If Jackson was surprised, he hid it well. "You want to give me back my management position?"_

"_Yes. I believe you've proved yourself worthy in the last several months. You've come pretty far."_

_Jackson's crystalline eyes, which had begun to glimmer with egotistical confidence at hearing such a praise come from his higher up, suddenly narrowed as he realized what Westley was really telling him. "Three months?" His boss gave a slight nod of assent. "So you called me in here to tell me I can't deal with Lisa Reisert."_

_It wasn't a question, and Charles smirked at the kid's boldness. Maybe he chose the wrong guy to frame._

"_No, I'm telling you to get it done sooner. The safe house is open on the weekend of March 16__th__ and 17__th__. You can deal with her then, or else the management job is no longer available to you. Understand?"_

_Jackson clenched his jaw, holding back his bitter remark. Only two days? After all this time, he'd only get _two days _with Leese. The fucking bastards gave him moths to plan this out, letting him think he'd have all the time in the world. If it weren't for the fact that he needed this job, he'd have quit right there and then to deal with Lisa on his own time. Instead, he took a deep breath and gave his employer the expected response. _

"_Fine. I'll get it done."_

_Charles smiled. "Good." _

_He dismissed Jackson and watched the kid stride angrily out of the office. He leaned back casually in his chair and allowed himself the opportunity to fully appreciate how all of the pieces were slowly, finally, forming the whole of a puzzle. For the first time in a very long time, Charles Westley felt relieved. _

* * *

Present Day

May 18th, 9:47 AM

Lisa sat up in her hospital bed, rubbing her tear stained eyes and stretching her stiff muscles. She had only been asleep for a few hours, but she felt extremely well rested. She looked around the room and smiled when saw Greg passed out on the chair next to her bed. He had stayed the rest of the day with her in the hospital, but she really hadn't expected him to spend the night, even after what he had done for her only a few hours ago.

Lisa felt a wave of happiness crash over her as she recalled their day together. At first it was a bit awkward; neither knew each other, and yet Lisa was very insistent that he stay, at least for a few hours. She was simply afraid to be left alone. Of course she didn't tell Greg this, but he didn't mind staying. He had nowhere else to go, and it looked like Lisa needed some company.

The first hour or so they chatted about little things; movies they loved to watch over and over again, their favorite food, music they listened to. Lisa was grateful for Greg. Without him, she'd be a complete emotional wreck. With him sitting next to her though, she was able to keep a smile on her face and hold up her end of the conversation. Whenever she felt the waterworks coming, she'd focus all of her attention on the handsome man sitting beside her and, for some reason, she'd be able to calm herself down. But she knew it would only be a matter of time before she slipped.

Greg kept up most of the conversation. He seemed to sense something was upsetting Lisa besides the trauma of the accident. Maybe it was the glassy faraway look in her eyes, or the way she'd flinch every time he made a sudden move, but he never once got frustrated with her or forced her to explain why she kept rubbing her wrists. Every time he thought she was going to have a breakdown, he'd pick a new topic to talk about to keep her distracted.

It was around eight at night and they had just finished a rather lengthy conversation, but Lisa couldn't really remember what they had been talking about. She was starting to think about everything that happened. Her hands started shaking and she took a deep breath to try and calm herself. Greg noticed her sudden agitation and hastily cleared his throat.

"So, I now know what your favorite color is, the first car you owned, and the fact that you like to put mayo on your burgers." Lisa let a small smile touch her lips, but she still wasn't completely focused. Greg was nervous she was going to start crying, and so he frantically searched for a new, safe topic of conversation.

"What do you do for a living?"

Lisa snapped her gaze up to meet his. Her breathing hitched, but just for a moment. _Calm down. Just answer the question. _

She took a deep breath. "I um…I'm a hotel manager at the Lux Atlantic. I have been for about three years now."

Greg looked impressed. "Veeery nice! Do you get to keep those fuzzy robes they put in the bathrooms?"

Lisa laughed, not because she thought what he said was funny, but more because her nerves were starting to break. She held onto the sides of the bed to keep her hands from shaking. "Yeah, I love those things. It's hard to find a nice bathrobe anywhere nowadays."

"How about discounts? Like, if you were to travel, would you get free rooms in the other Lux Atlantics?"

"I don't know about a free room, but yeah I'd probably get a ton of money off. Although I don't think I'd choose to stay at a Lux…When I went to New York a few months ago I found a Hilton. I honestly don't like to spend any more time at that place than absolutely necessary."

Greg smiled. "Oh god, I know the feeling…"

"Oh yeah? And what do you do that you could possibly hate so much?"

"I don't work at a hotel, but it's almost as boring."

There was a slight pause in the conversation, and Greg kept his eyes trained on Lisa. She waited for him to continue, but after a few seconds it was clear he was waiting for some kind of response. _Please, please don't make me guess…_

Greg finally realized she wasn't going to ask too many questions, so he spoke up. "I'm actually a manager, too. I work with…"

Lisa's chest had constricted as his first words registered in her mind.

"_Nah, manager…"_

He kept talking, but Lisa had stopped listening. It felt as though she was suddenly being covered with wet cement. Memories she had been working so hard to suppress for the past couple of months suddenly came crashing down on her, suffocating her. All the noise in the room became muffled and the sound of her racing heart was all she could focucs on. Lisa closed her eyes to try and shy away from the pain she was suddenly feeling, but that only intensified the pictures flashing through her mind. Jackson buying her a drink, sitting next to her, shoving her against the wall, his fingers digging into her face, his hand curling around her throat, his nails digging into her flesh, her body falling down the stairs, his hand smothering her mouth, a needle piercing the side of her neck and the feeling of helplessness as the drug raced through her veins, strong tape cutting off her circulation, the assassin's smiling face before he slammed into the Mercedes, glass flying everywhere, stabbing her skin…

She clapped a shaking hand over her mouth to try hold back the scream that was crawling up her throat. But that didn't stop the tears. She let out a lung wrenching sob as she finally let down all of her defenses. It felt as if all of her emotions were just waiting to come out, like she was bottling them up these past months as if trying to prove to Jackson that she could control herself when need be. It felt nice to finally let out all of the hurt, pain, and confusion. With each sob that wracked her body, Lisa could practically feel herself healing.

She sat there on the bed crying and shaking uncontrollably. She lost track of time, whether it was minutes or hours before she was slowly able to calm down. She took deep soothing breaths and forced herself to quiet until all that was left were soft, silent tears streaming down her blotched cheeks. Her heart went back to a normal steady pace and she was able to once again become aware of her surroundings. It was only then that she noticed a comforting arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and her face lying against a tear stained shirt. She looked up and saw that Greg had moved her so that he was lying on the bed, and that at some point Lisa had found her way into his embrace. He smiled down at her and his hand traced reassuring circles against her arm. Too tired to be embarrassed, Lisa laid her head back against his muscled chest and listened to Greg's strong heart beats as they gently nudged her into sleep.

* * *

Ok, I really want to update. So I'm ending the chapter here. Sorry there's not a whole lot of action in this chapter, but be assured I will update ASAP, which is true because I'm supposed to be studying right now and I don't want to, so this will be a good distraction. PLEASE REVIEW! It's all about Jackson in the next chapter. We'll find out what was in those documents and maybe Jackson and Lisa will meet again…? Hopefully. We'll see…


	8. Chapter 8

Ok. I'm really sorry if this gets confusing. But since Jackson wasn't in the last chapter and I wrote about Lisa waking up in the hospital on the 18th, I'm going back to when Jackson was sitting in the bathroom fixing his leg and he had just opened up the envelope on the 17th...Remember? Make sense? I hope so. And I'm not trying to like. Insult people's intelligence or whatever. I'm just not sure what's confusing and what's not but since I get confused all the time when I'm writing this I figured there has to be someone else out there just as equally confused…I'm rambling. I apologize. Ok. Here we go.

* * *

May 17th, 9:22 AM

The bathroom tiles were uncomfortably cold against Jackson's injured leg and the fluorescent lights beat painfully into his tired eyes, but he barely noticed. His focus was trained solely on the dozens of photographs that had fallen out of the heavy manila envelope he held in his hands. A pile of black and whites had nestled into his bloody lap, and he reached out a surprisingly composed hand to pick one up.

The picture he lifted was of Jackson walking down a street alongside dozens of regular citizens on their daily route to work, all of whom Jackson could guarantee were not paid assassins. He was wearing casual jeans and fitted black shirt, with a pea coat accentuating the outfit. Jackson remembered this day; it wasn't but a month ago that he had decided to walk to headquarters instead of driving through the morning traffic, so he could grab a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He had been in a rather pleasant mood. He'd stopped to grab a blueberry muffin and gave five bucks to a homeless man on the street. That was the day his boss had called him in to tell him he'd only have two days to deal with Lisa.

All in all, it was a relatively normal looking photograph with no obvious or ulterior meaning behind it. But to Jackson it meant he had been followed. Watched. He couldn't believe that he would allow himself to be trailed so easily, that he wouldn't have noticed a surveyor taking pictures of him in broad daylight. One of the first things he had been trained to do was to notice those important, rather conspicuous details. Why hadn't he noticed?

He looked down beside him and examined the rest of the photos. One was of Jackson's Mercedes, his license plate clearly visible. Another was of Jackson at a local supermarket, studiously looking over his grocery list. A few were shots taken from outside his apartment building, and one truly disturbing image showed Jackson in his bedroom running on his treadmill. How someone had managed to take that was something he chose not to think about.

Jackson wrenched his eyes away from the multitude of pictures now littering the bathroom floor. He instead looked down at the pile of papers still sitting inside of the envelope. He fingered through them, but it didn't take long for him to get the gist. Every piece of information that one could possibly scrounge up about a Mr. Jackson Thomas Rippner was available in the pile of papers he now held in his hands. All of this information was extremely difficult to find; Jackson had spent years of his life working to make it so. The only people who could have the resources to even attempt to gather this would be his employers, but why they'd want to give this to anyone, he didn't know. '_Former employers. Fuck...Where the hell was I these past couple of months?' _

Social Security number, multiple phone numbers, water bills, job applications, extensive history, personal information, every alias he had ever used, every assassination he had ever committed, every job he had ever worked on, his gun transactions, his bank statements… Every piece of information was shockingly accurate. Except for this last paper.

Jackson was a fairly rich man; everyone who had ever known him could figure that out. But there was something wrong with the account information shown on the paper he held in his hand. Where his balance should have read $876,000,050, it now read $5,876,000,050. He quickly searched his mind for a logical reason when he might have somehow earned himself 5 billion dollars, but he knew there was no possible way. Someone must have gotten the wrong information. Jackson set the paper aside, but couldn't help feel that something wasn't exactly right…

He took a breath and banged his head back against the wall. How dare someone follow him, fuck with him like this? After all he had done for the Company; this was the last thing he deserved. What he really deserved was a parade, a plaque, and a pay raise- which, apparently, he was somehow already given- but not a fucking pile of paper that basically read "Hey, Jackson, you don't know who we are but we know everything there is to know about you. So you better watch out because you now have zero resources and we're coming to kill you. Have a nice day."

One thing was for sure, Jackson wasn't going to let these fuckers win, whoever they were. They wanted to mess with his head, but he knew the end result would be the same: either he died, or _they_ did. No in between, no back yard deals to be made here. But, even though he was angrier than hell that it could ever happen to him, Jackson was strangely ok with the whole situation. He valued his life, sure, but in this line of business you had to be prepared for death at some point. There weren't a whole lot of people that got away without a burn notice stabbed into their back at some point, and to be honest, Jackson had made it much farther in the Company chain than most. But the real attention getter was whether or not you went out with a fight. Jackson had seen too many once-golden assassins who were cut off from their company without a retirement party or a severance check, just a bull's eye taped to their chest. Some were simply shot in the head; others were victims of more creative murders. He remembered one particularly gruesome circumstance where his friend Darrin, who had worked for the company for eight years and had made his boss billions of dollars richer, was run down with a car, taken into a warehouse and brutally tortured for three days straight, for what reason no one ever knew. A video of the torture and the remnants of his mutilated body were left in the warehouse only to be discovered by a group of teenagers several weeks later. But by then the Company had cleaned house and the only people left alive were the ones who had nothing to do with Darrin's sudden and mysterious murder. And although many were confused by his sudden disposal, no one dared speak up or ask questions. Life went on and mouths stayed shut, because that's what the Company expected.

Yes, Jackson had seen it all. It was a disappointment, really, to see so much potential thrown away so wastefully. It was a vicious cycle, and many people in the business had come to terms with their fate. Only two assassins had fought the system, and although neither of them had lived to see their next birthday, they gained a great deal of respect from their former coworkers. Those were the important people, the people whose names were remembered after death. Darrin was forgotten along with the hundreds of others who were victims of murderously dirty politics, but not these two fighters. Retaliating against the structure gained you a reputation, and if there was anything Jackson needed at the moment, it was a reputation.

But for some reason, Jackson didn't think this threat came directly from his Company. It was obvious that they had something to do with the situation seeing as they were the only ones privy to his personal information, but this just wasn't their style. The Charles Westley Jackson knew was more direct. He didn't have a fetish for the violent cat-and-mouse foreplay, and even if he did, he honestly just wouldn't have the time to indulge in it. He prioritized money and jobs over petty profile killings. No, this was something else. Some_one _else. But why they were out to kill him was a question to save for another time.

A hard knock on the bathroom door brought Jackson out of his thoughts. He rubbed his forehead and began gathering up the papers strewn around the floor. The knock came again, louder and more insistent this time. He let out an impatient sigh. "Give me a sec."

"Buddy, you've been in there for forty five minutes now, I got customers waitin' to get in."

Jackson ignored him as he slowly stowed away the last paper. He threw the envelope into the first aid kit and took out a set of matches. Holding the kit and the matches in his left hand, he braced his body against the wall and gently eased his way into a standing position, testing his weight against his injured leg. The muscles were tight and inflamed, but the pain was bearable. He walked over to the metal trash bin that held the paper towels Jackson had used to wipe away his blood and tossed a flaming match into it to hide the evidence that he had been bleeding.

He looked up into the mirror and examined himself for the first time since the crash. His face was bruised and a small cut on his forehead left tiny smears of crimson across his cheek. He turned the tap on the sink and cupped water in his hands, washing the grime from his face. He wiped himself dry with his shirt and turned to look at the flames in the trash bin, which had begun to extinguish. He stomped the tiny fire out and turned to look at the room once more, deciding it was as clean if not cleaner than when he had entered. He limped over to the door and opened it to find himself face to face with a short, balding man with a nametag that read "MANAGER" in bold lettering. Behind him was a line of men waiting for the restroom.

Jackson stepped aside and made sarcastic gesture towards the open door. "It's all yours."

Before the manager could say anything, Jackson turned and walked out of the café, ignoring the curious looks of customers appraising his disheveled appearance. The street outside was surprisingly empty given the time of day, which made what Jackson had to do so much simpler. Sending surreptitious glances over his shoulder, he casually walked over to the nearest vehicle and tested the handle. The door remained shut and no alarm was set off which was a good sign. Setting his kit down, he took out a small pocket knife that was supplied in the box and skillfully picked the lock of the old car. He let himself in and pulled out the wire board, tapping colors together until the engine finally sparked to life. He quietly let out a thankful sigh put his foot down on the gas, easing his way into the city's streets.

Jackson made sure to pay close attention to his surroundings, but didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He steered the car in a deliberate manner, weaving his way in and out of the morning traffic. He knew where he had to go, and it didn't take long for him to get there. A half hour later, he was sitting on the corner of 4th and Maple staring at a telephone pole. Halfway up the pole, maybe just an arm's length taller than where Jackson could easily reach on the ground, was a large white box that read "WARNING: ELECTRICAL WIRING" in bright red letters, and underneath "Electrical shock could cause death". Looking around, Jackson noted the amount of people walking down the street, but he decided this was no time for appearances. He quickly got out of his stolen car and walked over to the hybrid parked directly next to the pole. He grimaced in pain as he hoisted himself up onto the silver car and stood, putting him face to face with the white box. People were staring, but Jackson ignored them and grabbed the metal with both hands. He pulled, easing it away from the pole and jumped down from his perch, limping back to his stolen vehicle.

He waited until he had driven several blocks before he parked and grabbed the box. In his line of business, it was a smart move to store weapons in easy to reach, clever hiding places around where you were currently living. It could be the difference between life and death, and having weapons hidden throughout the town had saved Jackson many times throughout his career. He found that any metal box with the words "Warning", "Electrical", or "Death" written on them could keep away most curious hands and become useful hiding places, so Jackson had strategically placed several around the city outside of the safe house before he had brought Lisa there.

He wrenched open the top and pulled out three guns, a box of ammo, and a knife. Not much, but it was better than nothing. Satisfied, Jackson loaded up the guns and threw two in the glove compartment, keeping the third and the knife for himself.

Jackson felt much safer with the weight of the weapons on him. He pulled back into the line of traffic and steered himself deeper into the city. It took him less than an hour before he pulled up outside of a rather tall apartment building, constructed entirely out of glass. It was a classy structure meant for only the richest people in the city, and Jackson had helped his coworker pick it out when he was forced into retirement. Getting out of the car, Jackson walked swiftly passed the doorman and into the lobby. It was time to figure out what was really going on.

He rode the elevator up to the forty-ninth floor, where the elevator forced him to stop and get out. His colleague lived on the fiftieth floor, the penthouse suite, but he had installed a large amount of security which made it nearly impossible to break into his home. Jackson walked down the hallway towards another elevator that rode directly up to the suite, and typed in an extensive code on a pad next to the metal doors. A green light flashed and the doors opened, but as soon as he stepped inside he was forced to place his thumb against an access pad. Two seconds later he felt the elevator lift smoothly up.

A few years ago Jackson had saved his associate Adam from a hit, and in return Adam had given Jackson complete admission into his apartment. To some this might have sounded strange, but not to Jackson. To him, it meant unlimited access to any kind of information available. Adam specialized in computer tech and hacking and he was the biggest snoop Jackson had ever met, which meant he was always up to date on even the most well kept secrets. That was why a hit was placed on him. His little side hobby of hacking into government and Company computer files had been discovered. The US placed him on the country's most wanted list, and the Company had several assassins hot on his trail. Adam had come to Jackson as a last resort, knowing he was the best. Jackson kept him hidden for a few years and set him up with a completely new identity, and by then the Company had moved on and the US government had lost the trail. Adam owed Jackson his life.

So if anyone was going to help him now, it was this guy.

The elevator doors dinged open and Jackson stepped into a large open space. Adam was across the room and as soon as he heard the doors open, he swiftly turned and pointed a .45 auto in Jackson's direction.

"A little paranoid, don't you think?" Jackson asked, walking confidently toward his friend.

Recognition crossed Adam's face and it lit into a smile. He threw his gun down on the table and pulled Jackson into a hug, which was stiffly returned. If there was one thing about Adam that Jackson hated, it was his bubbly personality.

"Jacky boy! Where you been buddy? Last time I saw you, you were sittin' in a hospital bed breathing through a hole in your neck."

"I've been busy. You look good."

Adam smiled and patted his stomach. "Jeez you're an awful liar. Nah, I've been packin' on the pounds. Retirement does not suit me."

Now that he had mentioned it, Jackson noticed a slight beer belly underneath his tshirt. Last time he'd seen Adam he'd been a small guy but in great shape. Now his black hair was a mess and he'd lost some muscle, replaced by a thin layer of fat. He finally fit the label of computer geek. Jackson made a decision in that moment that he would never let himself go like that. Even after retirement, he'd keep in shape.

Adam placed a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "You, on the other hand, look like shit."

Jackson looked down at himself. He hadn't changed out of his clothes after the accident, and they were covered in dirt and ripped in several places. The left leg of his jeans was cut open from when he stitched his leg up, and the once white bandages were now speckled with brown splotches of blood.

"Yeah, well…It's been a rough morning."

Adam laughed and walked back over to the table. "So what do you need?"

Annoyance tugged at Jackson. "What makes you think I need something?"

"Come on Jack. Not once in the five years that I've known you have you just stopped by for a beer. You only come when you need something."

Jackson's jaw clenched and he walked into the kitchen, pulling the refrigerator door open and grabbing two cans of Budweiser. He threw one to Adam, which he caught, and leaned back against the counter. "Never too late to start."

Adam laughed and popped open his can. He took a sip and he leaned next to Jackson.

They stood there in silence for a few minutes before Adam finally spoke up. "You want to know about Westley."

Jackson tilted his head and shot him a glance. "So he's the one trying to kill me?"

"Not exactly." Adam took another sip of his beer and stared out the wall of windows in front of him. Jackson waited for him to continue, but he remained silent.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You really don't know what's going on?"

"I know someone's doing a really shitty job at trying to kill me."

Adam laughed. "Come with me."

He led Jackson down an assortment of hallways and into a large windowless room in the center of the house. Inside were dozens of high tech computers and thousands of wires spread across the floor. Adam walked over to a table and picked up a set of headphones. "A couple of months ago I signed on with this telecommunications project for a private corporation that was looking into the Company. It was pretty basic, all I had to do was make a general sweep of the Company's phone lines and analyze the calling patterns. So for weeks I'd been listening in on private calls, mostly about boring crap like weapon transactions and coded messages. But a few weeks ago I was able to tap into Westley's private line. It wasn't for the project, so I wasn't recording anything I heard right away. It took me a couple of conversations to figure out who they were talking about, but once I realized it was you I copied it. I only ended up with half a conversation. Here."

He handed Jackson the headphones and entered a code on the computer. A slight buzzing was emitting from the headphones, and suddenly he heard voices being replayed.

"_-mean by drag it out?"_

Jackson recognized Westley immediately, but the next voice he heard was stained by a Russian accent and he was certain he'd never met the man before.

"_Fedorov has trouble controlling his temper. You really pissed him off. It's not even about the money, it's about, how do you say… _praid, _pride. He's the head of our company and has never had a problem until now. How is someone, during a routine explosives transaction, able to steal billions of dollars from our secure bank accounts? That does not happen. He wants whoever was responsible for this to understand fully the consequences of his actions before he is killed."_

"_So you mean torture." _

Despite Jackson's calm exterior, his hear skipped a beat as he heard the word. He'd been tortured several times before, but it was never a pleasant experience, especially when you were warned ahead of time that you were going to be killed in the process.

"_Yes. But it's like game for Fedorov. He enjoys it. He likes the chase more than the actual murder, he toys with his victims."_

"_Yeah, well the sooner this is over the better. I'll make sure he's there on the 17__th__. Did you get the documents I sent?"_

"_Yes, I already handed them over. I think Fedorov is planning to give them to Rippner at some point before he kills him."_

"_Good. Let's finish this."_

Jackson took the headphones off. He thought back to the papers in his envelope and how 5 billion dollars had been magically transferred into his account. "So…Westley embezzled money from this branch and he's framing me for it?"

"Yep."

"How the hell was he able to do that? I've never placed a weapons transaction with that Company, I've never had access to their account codes."

"Yes, you have."

Jackson shot Adam a scathing look. "Pretty sure I'd know if I was killing people with Russian guns, Adam."

"Not guns. The explosives used in the Keefe job were bought from the Russians. You ran that job. You had complete access to everything, including their account codes."

"I didn't authorize that transaction, Westley did."

"Yeah, but for all they know Westley was just a middle man. You could have easily authorized the deal and you had all of their information. Westley probably had an easy job convincing them that you were behind this. God Rippner, you're slow."

Adam fell back into a swivel chair and took another sip of his beer. Jackson's fists clenched as he thought about how easily he allowed himself to fall into this mess. How precarious his job really was. He had been so talented at what he did, but he never allowed himself to get caught up in the politics of the Company, which in the end was what lead to his fallout.

"Who was the Russian guy talking to Westley?"

Adam looked quickly through a pile of papers he held in his hands. "I had some trouble finding information on him, but I was able to match his voice with a Fedor Ivonov. He's 48, been a manager in the Russian branch of the Company for seven years now. He has a wife Lidia and a kid Jako. He's been pretty successful in the Company, he's made some nice hits. Looks like he had a falling out with Fedorov, the guy who runs the show. About a year ago he was demoted from second in command to about the level you're at. Or, were at." He shrugged his shoulders. "Other than that there's not too much to say about the guy."

Jackson made some mental notes. "What about Fedorov?"

"Now _that's_ the guy you really should be worried about. This dude is a whack job. He doesn't take shit from anyone. He's been head of the branch for four years and he's killed more people than anyone in the history of the organization. Seriously, he's a friggin' psychopath."

"How hard is going to go after this?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say pack your shit and get the hell out of town."

He handed Jackson the papers containing information on Fedorov and turned Jackson to face him. "Seriously buddy. Take my advice and buy a one way ticket out of the country. You're good, but not good enough to take on the entire Company."

"I took on the entire Company _and_ the US government to save your sorry ass."

Adam laughed. "Yeah, but no one was trying to kill you while you did it."

He slapped Jackson on the back and led him out of the computer room into the bright light of his living room.

"Thanks for the help. I'm sure you'll know how all this works out, you'll probably know before I do."

Adam turned and hit the button to open the elevator doors. "Probably. You gonna leave right away?"

Jackson stepped into the elevator and pressed 'Ground Level'. "I have to pick up something of mine first."

Adam gave Jackson a knowing smile. "Don't let that bitch wear you down again, Jacky. Keep her in line this time."

Jackson laughed. "Trust me. I will."

The elevator doors closed with a ding and descended down to the first floor. Jackson checked to make sure his guns were loaded and ready before walking out into the bright sunlight. He walked alongside a group of people who led him down the street to where his car was parked. He opened the door and sat down in the front seat, grabbing the first aid and placing the papers Adam had given him inside the envelope. He had just closed the lid and was about to reach for the wire board to start the ignition when he suddenly stopped. He grabbed the kit and his weapons from the glove compartment and got out of the car. He bent down to where he had a clear view of the underneath, and he immediately recognized the flashing red light next to the gas tank. Adrenaline burst through Jackson as he got up and sprinted in the opposite direction, but he knew even before he felt the immense heat of the car explosion that he was two seconds too late for safety.

* * *

Ah. This is long. And I'm not completely happy with it…but it hopefully clears up everyone's questions. Finally. And there was no Lisa or Greg, but I've already sketched out and started writing the next chapter so I can honestly reassure everyone that they'll meet up in the next update. And let me tell you, Jackson is PISSED. So there you are. Please please review.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey there! Hope people are still interested in this story. This was actually a really difficult chapter to write for some reason. But, to make up for the disgustingly long wait, I made the chapter extra long for you. HUZZAH! And there's a loooot going on in this chapter…maybe too much…but I was on a roll. Don't hate.  
Thank you sooo so much to everyone who reviewed! I love hearing what you guys think about the story. It makes me happy :D So...Jackson basically loses it in this chapter. He's kind of fed up with everything at this point. And I think he has a right to be, buuuut that's just my opinion. He and Lisa **_**and**__**Greg **_**finally meet (yay!)…wonder how that'll go. Please review! **

Jackson was halfway down the street before he felt the blistering heat of the explosion wash over him. The force of the blast sent his body crashing into the concrete and as his head slammed against the sidewalk, he was suddenly blinded by an outburst of colored dots. Through the haze of dizziness, he could vaguely feel shards of glass and metal stabbing his sides and he was barely able to conjure enough energy to protect his head with his arms. The surrounding sound of exploding metal was deafening. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, the only thing keeping him conscious as he lay on the ground. He didn't dare move until the atmosphere quieted into the crackling of smoldering car parts, and a scream from an unsuspecting survivor pierced the air.

He let his arms fall limply from his head as he peeked up from his position on the ground. All around him was chaos. Whoever planted the car bomb was clearly shooting for a theatrical effect. The explosion was large, consuming nearly everything around it. Dozens of bodies littered the ground, some charred and still, others nursing serious injuries.

Jackson placed his hands against the concrete and tried lifting himself into a sitting position, but all of his energy was drained and he was instantly assaulted with another wave of dizziness. He gave into his exhaustion and fell back down, grateful for the solid stability the sidewalk offered. He concentrated on his breathing, willing the nausea to pass. His adrenaline rush was beginning to die out and his mind started to drift into darkness. He was just about to give in to the welcoming quiet of his mind when he felt his body abruptly leave the ground. He felt several pairs of hands digging into his seared flesh lifting him upwards. His head lolled to his shoulder and through the slits of his closing eyes Jackson could make out several large shapes leading him to a dark awaiting van. He was ushered into the vehicle, but by that time unconsciousness had taken Jackson hostage along with the Company.

When he awoke, he found his wrists tied tightly to a metal chair and a black bag covering his head. The cloth smelled of sweat and dried blood and it was all Jackson could do not to think about the amount of people who had worn it before him. The scent made him gag, but he forced himself to continue breathing so as not to pass out again. He focused all his attention on listening to his surroundings. There was a strange buzzing sound directly next to him, but other than that he could hear nothing out of the ordinary.

He pulled fruitlessly at the ropes binding him to the chair until his wrists were sticky with blood. _'Jesus Christ this fucking bag smells.'_ Jackson gave up on the ropes and focused instead on trying not to throw up. He breathed in through his mouth, ignoring the fact that he could taste the scent of dried sweat on his tongue. Every tiny movement caused spasms to rock through his body. Both the car accident and the explosion had left his body in an inordinate amount of pain, and the ropes cutting off his circulation in his wrists didn't help.

Time passed slowly. Jackson spent the first couple of hours listening for someone close by, but it wasn't long before he lost his focus. He found himself instead thinking of Lisa. _His_ Lisa. It was because of her he was in this much shit right now. No way would the Company turn against him had she not screwed everything up on the flight. Westley would have found some other fucker to frame and let Jackson continue making millions for the Company. When he got out of here, he'd make sure to show Lisa just how much crap he'd gone through because of her. When he got out of here, he'd…Jackson's fingers tightened against the arms of the chair. He'd gotten out of a lot of sticky situations in his lifetime, but right now…he honestly didn't know how he'd be able to get out of this one alive.

Jackson's heart suddenly raced in fear. This was it. After everything he had gone through, and he was finally going to die. It's funny how he had been placed in countless situations where his life was in danger, and yet he had never before felt this pounding fear in his chest, not even when he lay on the Reisert's floor bleeding from a gunshot wound.

There were so many times he should have felt this feeling before, but he hadn't. So why now? What made this situation different from any of the others? Not much. He'd been beaten and chased before and he'd been able to survive this long, so why should he give up?

He forced himself to try and concentrate. _'Focus. Calm down and fucking _focus_.' _But it was hard to focus with a bag blinding him and the smell suffocating him. He took deep breaths to try and calm his erratic breathing, despite the sickening stench. Eventually his heart slowed down to a normal pace and he was able to think. Jackson tested the ropes again, but not as wildly as before. Slowly, he inched his arms back and forth against the metal until he was surprised to find what he was searching for- a nick in the chair's right arm rest. It was small, barely noticeable, but sharp. Jackson let out a small sigh of thanks and began rubbing the rope back and forth against the gash.

Jackson had been in the room for four hours before his progress was interrupted by a door slamming open. At that point, the ropes were almost completely torn apart. He only hoped whoever was in the room wouldn't notice them. The bag was suddenly lifted from his head, causing Jackson to squint against the sudden light. Sweet, odorless air washed over him and he gratefully breathed in the scent. He cracked his neck on both sides, sighing in relief. His eyes soon adjusted to the light and Jackson was able to take in his surroundings. He sat in the middle of a small interrogation room. There was a tinted window to the right of him, and two rows of buzzing fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Only after he had taken in every detail of the room did he turn to face the man in front of him.

He was tall, standing at maybe six feet, seven inches. Jackson would have been lying if he said he wasn't somewhat alarmed at the man's bulk. His muscles rippled every time he moved even the slightest bit. The man's beady eyes were made smaller by his overgrown eyebrows and large, face-consuming nose. Overall, Jackson had to admit that he was without a doubt the ugliest man he had ever laid eyes on. But that thought didn't lessen the knot growing in his stomach as he warily eyed the man's clenched fists.

"So, this is the famous _Jackson Rippner._ I've heard so much about you." The man's voice was surprisingly quiet in comparison to his size.

Jackson smiled, which made his cheeks hurt. "Only good things, I hope."

"Until recently, yes. I must tell you, for years I'd been dying to meet the famous assassin who apparently had more successes than many of his superiors combined."

"Oh stop, you're making me blush. And you are…?"

The man stared at him for a few moments before he smiled tightly. "You can call me Daniel."

"Well it's very nice to meet you, Daniel. You seem like a nice guy. I hate to cut our meeting short, but I actually have someplace I need to be, so if you could just untie me…"

Daniel laughed and leaned his hands on the arms of Jackson's chair which forced Jackson to stop cutting the ropes. His face was only a few inches away from Jackson's. "So much courage. I wonder how long that'll last." He paused. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Rippner?"

"I can only assume it has something to do with the crime I'm being framed for."

"Framed? Oh no, Mr. Rippner, we are quite sure you were involved in this."

Jackson suddenly turned angry. "You can think whatever you want, but you should know that while you're busy killing me, the man actually responsible for stealing all of your money is currently making plans to retire to some private island where you'll never be able to find him again. So I suggest you think very carefully about what you're about to do."

"I don't think this is the time for you to be accusing other people of your mistakes."

"I didn't steal your money and up until a few hours ago I didn't know why I was being chased. I have evidence proving my innocence. It's also the evidence you need to find the man who is guilty."

A flash of hesitation crossed Daniel's face before he smiled again. "You're very good, Mr. Rippner. Very good. And I suppose you have the name of the man currently in possession of all our money?"

"I do."

"You're not planning on giving it to us, though."

"Not without the guarantee that I leave this building _alive_."

Daniel held Jackson's glare for a moment longer before straightening up. He turned to the table and began taking off the rings he had on his fingers. Jackson continued moving his arm, flinching as another rope snapped loose. _'Come on, almost there…'_

"I don't have the authority to make you any promises, Mr. Rippner. But if you give me the information you claim to have I will call my boss and we can negotiate the terms of your survival. How does that sound?"

Jackson watched Daniel's motions carefully. "That sounds like a win lose situation."

"Maybe, maybe not. But it's the only offer I can give you."

Jackson remained quiet. He knew the chances of these people letting him go were slim to none, and he wasn't about to give up his only card without the promise of his survival. Another rope snapped.

Daniel sighed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. But I should warn you, in the end, you will give me the information we need."

Daniel was still facing the wall as the last of the ropes broke loose and fell to the ground. Jackson remained silent, and Daniel cracked his knuckles into his palm. "Looks like you chose the hard way."

He turned and started walking towards Jackson. _'Wait for it…wait…' _Jackson took a deep relaxing breath before Daniel was finally close enough to strike. As he raised his fist, Jackson swiftly thrust his leg up hard until into his groin. It was a solid kick and took Daniel for surprise. He doubled over, his face landing close to Jackson's hand. As quick as lightning, Jackson reached out and grabbed his assailant by the neck, squeezing tightly.

"Ack!" Daniel struggled and reached for his throat, but Jackson's voice stopped him.

"Shut up. I can kill you right now. All I have to do is close my hand and rip out your neck. Understand?"

Daniel stilled, recognizing the deadly tone in Jackson's voice.

"Untie my other wrist."

They stared at each other for a few moments before Daniel gave in. He shakily undid the knot holding Jackson to the chair, Jackson's hand squeezing tightly whenever he hesitated. As soon as he was free, he roughly pushed Daniel aside. The man's size allowed him an advantage, though. He was back on his feet and rushing towards Jackson almost immediately after hitting the floor.

Jackson buckled in pain as Daniel's fist met his face. He rolled on the ground and pushed himself up, ready for the next attack. He blocked Daniel's oncoming punch and got in a few of his own blows. The next minute was filled only with the sound of bone meeting bone and grunts of pain coming from each man as they fought relentlessly. But it wasn't long before Jackson began to lose steam. The past few days were catching up to him, and he suddenly had no more energy. He blocked another blow but as he let his fist fly, Daniel caught his wrist and twisted it, throwing Jackson to the floor.

He towered over Jackson's limp form and smiled. "You're rather resourceful, Mr. Rippner, I'll give you that much. But this is it. Just give up now, and maybe I'll go easy on you later on. Your choice."

Jackson groaned, and for a second actually considered giving up. He lay there on the floor, tired and in pain, but before he could turn around in defeat a memory flashed through his mind.

"_It happened in a parking lot…the scar….two years ago…in the middle of the day. He held a knife to my throat the whole time."_

_Jackson stared at Lisa. This was something he hadn't been expecting, something he wasn't prepared for. A sudden spark of protective anger went through him. Lisa was _his. _The fact that someone else had gotten to her before him, had _touched_ her, seemed outlandishly unfair. _

_He opened his mouth to say something, but Lisa spoke again._

"_Ever since, I've been trying to convince myself of one thing over and over again."_

_Jackson leaned back. He understood what she was getting at now. It was a feeling he had felt many times in his life, a feeling which had gotten him where he was today. He carefully but confidently answered her. "That it was beyond your control."_

"_No." Lisa turned to him, fire in her eyes. "That it would never happen again."_

Lisa was a fighter. She kept going even after life shit on her. That's what drew him to her, why he needed to go back to her again and again. That's what he loved about her.

The memory of the fire in Lisa's eyes was what made Jackson refocus. If she could fight, then so could he. He glanced to his right and noticed the metal chair sitting about four feet away from him. He smirked before throwing himself up off the ground and making a grab for the chair, swinging it around and hitting Daniel square in the stomach.

Now Jackson was the one standing over Daniel's body. He kicked him in the face for good measure before placing the chair over him and leaning on it, trapping him to the ground.

They stayed there out of breath for a few moments before Daniel laughed. "Aw, you really know how to fight, kid. But that's not gonna help you against Fedorov." He spit out a mouthful of blood. "Do you really think he's gonna let you live? Even if you are innocent, he'll find you and destroy you. Everything you have in your life will be gone and you'll be screaming for mercy before he kills you, too."

Jackson smiled. "I'll take my chances. And it's _Westley, _you son of a bitch."

Jackson leaned forward and punched Daniel hard in the temple, knocking him out. He quickly searched through the man's pocket and found a knife before walking towards the door.

He looked out into the hallway and saw a guard near the end. One guard, he could deal with. Jackson readjusted the knife in his hand and steadily threw it, not surprised as it hit its target and the man fell with a quiet thud. Jackson quickly walked over to him and pulled out the weapon, wiping it on his jeans and pocketing it. He grabbed the man's gun and continued through the building, killing only two more guards. He didn't think walking out the front door would be the best idea, so he carefully made his way down to the first floor. It was strangely quiet in the building; no one seemed to notice his escape so far. He wandered through the empty halls and found a window, figuring it was his best shot. He broke it and immediately a loud wailing siren echoed through the silence. The familiar feeling of adrenaline evtered his bloodstream and Jackson quickly jumped out, wincing in pain as he landed on the concrete below him.

He broke into a run as men around him slowly began to realize something was wrong. He ran across the compound, coming to a parking lot surrounded by a large barb wired fence. There was one exit, which was held open by two soldiers. A line of supply trucks were leaving the property.

Men shouted behind him – "Go! Get him!" –and gunshots rang through the air as Jackson made his way towards the cars driving lazily through the exit, unaware of the confusion around them. Jackson set his eyes on the last truck in line. The driver was skinny, with one arm draped out of his open window and one resting on the wheel. He was close to the gate but was driving slowly, allowing time for Jackson to sprint through the hail of bullets and reach it before he left the complex. He mustered up all of his remaining energy and jumped onto the car, grabbing hold of the sides of the open window to keep him attached. Before the man realized someone was on the side of his truck, Jackson painfully pulled himself through the window and fell across the driver's lap. The man yelled and beat his fist into Jackson, but because of the cramped quarters his blows fell weakly on his shoulder. Jackson pulled himself over to the passenger's seat, his head leaning against the window. The driver reached for his gun holster, but Jackson pushed both of his legs out, kicking the man square on the temple.

The car swerved. Jackson grabbed hold of the wheel with one hand and managed to stick his foot on the brakes before they veered off the road. He placed his gun to the man's forehead. Outside, soldiers had their weapons pointed at the vehicle, but they couldn't get a shot in without harming the driver.

"Get out." Jackson hissed.

The man was shaking, but he didn't move. Jackson pressed the gun into his face harder. "Get out, now!" he yelled.

Slowly, he opened the door and Jackson pushed him onto the ground. He was already situated in the driver's seat before the man had time to turn around, and Jackson shot towards the open gate. Soldiers tried desperately to close it shut, but they were too late; Jackson sped forward, ducking in his seat to avoid the open fire that had started behind him. A bullet hit the windshield, zinging past Jackson's ear which caused the glass to crack. Another must have hit it because just a few seconds later it shattered altogether. Glass pierced his hands, but he didn't let up on the gas pedal. Soon, he was off the property and onto the road leading- Jackson hoped- to the city.

He glanced into the rearview mirror. A few soldiers continued shooting while others talked animatedly into their cell phones, but none stepped off of the compound. Jackson concentrated on the road ahead of him. There were trees on either side and there seemed to be no end to the black pavement, but he sped forward determined to find a public place.

He drove for a half hour before finally slowing down. No one was following him, and he was beginning to spot houses on the side of the road. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and took a turn that led to the highway. He needed to find a place where he could rest. He needed paperwork, fake IDs, maybe a passport. And although he hated to admit it, he knew that meant only one thing.

Adam.

In Jackson's eyes, they were even now. Adam had watched Jackson's back and gave him the information he needed even though it put him in danger. But right now, Jackson didn't have anyone else to turn to. Most of his contacts thought he was either guilty, dead, or too much of a hassle to deal with. And Adam would be able to get everything Jackson needed to go into hiding. The process is much more difficult than it looks- there're papers that need to be forged, IDs to be made, trails to be erased. For people who aren't accustomed or practiced in the art, it takes a lot of time and energy to become invisible. Fortunately for Jackson, Adam happened to be very skilled in that department. But it also meant he'd have to owe him big. Jackson hated that.

But right now it seemed like his only option.

At the first rest stop he passed, Jackson pulled over and got out of the truck. He needed to dump the thing. He parked it behind a dumpster and walked into the building.

People stared at him from every direction. He probably looked a mess, but he didn't care. He found the bathroom and went in to inspect himself. Concerned men asked if he needed help, but Jackson simply shrugged them off as he made his way to the mirrors.

Dried blood covered his face and purple marks were already appearing. There were burns down his arms from the explosion, and his already injured leg ached from the strain he put on it all day. But by far the most painful thing was his right wrist. Most of his skin had been rubbed clean off from cutting through the rope, and it continued to bleed freely. He grabbed some paper towels and wrapped them around his wrist, staunching the flow. He cupped water in his hands and cleaned off his face before looking in the mirror again. Better. Still very clearly beaten, but presentable.

He walked out of the bathroom and over to a woman standing in line for coffee.

"Do you have a cell phone?"

She looked at him, alarmed, and stuttered out a "yes." She didn't offer it to him though.

"Please, it's my wife, I need to call and check if she's ok. Please."

It might have been the second 'please' or the fact that he looked so disheveled and frantic, but she hesitantly handed over her phone. Jackson thanked her and took a few steps away. He dialed several sets of numbers, grateful he was able to remember all the codes. A few moments later, Adam answered.

"Yeeeah?"

"It's Jackson. I need you to pick me up."

"Jesus, you're still alive? I thought for sure the Company would have gotten to you by now."

"They did. Listen, I seriously need you to come get me. I'm at a rest stop, exit 47 right off of route 202."

"Alright, I'll be there Jacky. What the hell happened to you?"

"I can't explain it here." He paused. "I know the last thing you want right now is to get involved in my shit, but…I need a place to stay. Just for a few days, then I'll be gone."

"Anything you need, you got it. You did a lot for me, don't think I forgot about it."

"You hardly owe me anything now."

"Hey, without you I'd be six feet under."

Jackson had to agree with that. He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind, but he was afraid to ask. He didn't want to stretch his luck, but he had to know. "One more thing…you think you could get some papers together for me?"

"Thinking about runnin'?"

Jackson didn't answer. For some reason admitting it out loud made him feel weak. But Adam understood his silence as a yes.

"Yeah, I'll get them together. It'll probably take a few days though."

Jackson sighed, relieved. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"You can buy me a beer." With that, he hung up.

Jackson snapped the phone shut and gave it back to the woman waiting anxiously a few feet away from him. People gasped at him as he walked outside. He knew he shouldn't be out in the open looking the way he did, he knew it would draw unwanted attention. But he was too tired to care. He walked around the side of the building and laid down on a bench. As soon as he closed his eyes, an image of Lisa flashed through his mind.

He'd spend the next couple of days with Adam, then he'd come for her. And this time he'd make sure to show her how interfering has its consequences. This time, she'd get was she deserved. Jackson smiled. He had the sudden feeling that everything would work out in the end. For the first time in days, he felt hopeful.

* * *

Four days later, 6:45 PM

Lisa quickly grabbed her bag of groceries from the backseat and rushed towards her front door. She had spent way too long in the produce aisle and she was behind schedule. Greg was supposed to come over to watch a movie tonight, and he said he'd get there around seven. It was already 6:45. Lisa reached the front door and fumbled with her keys, wanting to get inside as quickly as possible so she'd have time to straighten up the place.

She was excited to see Greg. Ever since the incident at the hospital he had stayed by Lisa's side. He never overwhelmed her with his presence but he made sure Lisa knew he was always there for her if she needed him. Which, in Lisa's mind, was every moment of every day. He was the anchor that she had been searching for for all these years. He helped her get situated back in her apartment and drove her to work in the mornings. She was constantly making up excuses to get him to come over. A part of her knew she was being annoying, but she couldn't help it. She tried not to be so clingy, but Greg never disappointed her and always came with a smile. He seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his.

It had been a week now since the accident and they had become ridiculously close. They had complimenting personalities and they enjoyed spending time with each other. As the days went by, Lisa became increasingly more comfortable with the man who had saved her from the accident and she allowed herself to slowly open up to him. Although Greg never directly asked why she melted down in the hospital, Lisa decided she wanted to share her story with him. A few days after the hospital, they were sitting together watching a movie when Lisa had the sudden urge to tell him her story. She turned off the television and faced him, apologizing for the way she had acted in the hospital and offering an explanation for her lack of self control. Of course he said yes, and Lisa went on to tell him how she was brutally raped in a parking lot and, just two years later, assaulted on the red eye flight. She told him how Jackson had strangled her in the bathroom and forced her to make the phone call. She explained the assassin waiting at her father's house, how she helped blow up her hotel and eventually shot Jackson. She pushed herself to finish her story and explain how Jackson had come back several months later to kidnap her, and how they were followed by an assassin who tried to kill them both. By the end of her account she was a wreck again, but she had to admit it felt amazing to finally open up to someone and tell them how she felt. After all those years of bottling her emotions, she was grateful to finally have someone she felt comfortable enough to share these things with. Greg had said nothing when she finished. Instead, he gathered her in his arms and allowed her to cry into him. He held her close, even after she had stopped crying. He placed a gentle kiss on her head and quietly made her a promise. "I'll never let anyone hurt you", he had whispered. And, although she knew it was a promise he could not keep, she smiled and allowed herself to feel safe for that one night.

But that was four days ago and, although Greg had been around more than ever, Lisa had subconsciously allowed herself to once again feel anxious and frightened. She tried to hold on to the feeling of safety Greg so wanted to give her, but she knew Jackson was out there somewhere and he had proven before how he was not one to let things go lightly. It was only a matter of time before he found her again. But until then, Lisa had decided to enjoy her time with Greg.

She opened the front door and threw her keys and groceries on the table. She had fifteen minutes to get the place ready. She ran through the first floor in a frenzy, straightening out pillows and coasters that were already straight to begin with. When she felt satisfied the place looked presentable, she rushed to her room, wanting to change out of her work clothes. She let a hand through her hair as she opened her bedroom door, but immediately froze in her motions as she made eye contact with the most deadly crystalline blue she'd ever seen.

Her heart skipped a beat. She felt lightheaded with fear as she stared at Jackson casually leaning against her bedroom wall. He smiled in amusement as he looked at her. "Sorry I took so long, Leese. I had to entertain a couple of friends."

Lisa stood there, completely shocked to find him standing in her room. He was a mess; bruises and cuts covered almost every portion of his body, and his right wrist was bandaged. But that only made him seem more terrifying. Her knuckles were white from the grip she had on the doorknob. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should run but her feet remained motionless. Jackson stared at her, smiling, seemingly without a care in the world. "Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel welcomed."

Hearing his voice seemed to shake Lisa out of her daze and she once again gained control over her body. She let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she'd been holding and tripped out of the bedroom. She heard Jackson close in behind her, but she forced herself to keep her eyes forward and her feet moving. She threw chairs and lamps behind her in an attempt to slow Jackson down, and she felt a wave of satisfaction as she heard glass shatter against him.

She made it to the front door, relieved that she had not locked it. She yanked it open and launched herself into the hallway, opening her mouth to scream. But before she had time to even take a breath, Jackson's hand smashed against her mouth and he pulled her hard into his chest. He slammed the door shut with his foot and brutally dragged her through the apartment. Lisa dug her feet into the carpet and thrashed her arms into his body trying desperately to loosen his hold on her, but Jackson only responded by tightening his grip on her face. She felt his fingernails dig roughly into her cheek and she moaned in pain against his hand. Her flailing arms finally managed to deal a blow to his stomach. He growled as he wrapped his free arm around her waist, successfully gaining control over her body. He leaned his face into her hair as he continued to drag her through the apartment.

"Calm down, Leese. It doesn't need to be this hard."

He hauled her back into her bedroom and shut the door, finally letting her go. She gained her balance and backed away from Jackson, who stood blocking the only exit. He had one hand on his hip and he drew the other through his long brown hair, watching as Lisa caught her breath. Seeing her disheveled and frightened made Jackson feel better, made him feel as though he had gained back some authority in his life. Lisa was now the only person he could truly control, and that made Jackson feel powerful. He looked at her and smiled. His week was starting to get better.

Lisa flinched back as he took a step toward her. "Why the hell do you always come back?"

Irritation flared in Jackson. "Come on Lisa. We both know you're a smart girl. Don't embarrass yourself by asking stupid questions."

"Please, just leave me alone!"Jackson ignored her and continued his careful movement towards Lisa. She moved back at the same pace, stopping only when her back brushed the wall behind her. She tried sidestepping Jackson, but he swiftly grabbed her by the waist and pushed her back. He seized her wrists and took out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

Lisa panicked. "No, Jackson please!"

He shook his head. He leaned his body into hers and whispered into her ear. "Sorry Leese, but unfortunately…I don't trust you."

He had barely gotten his sentence out before Lisa rammed her knee up between his legs. Jackson let out a breath of air and doubled over, loosening his hold on her wrists just enough for her to be able to pull away. She shoved him onto her bed and ran for her door. She reached out for the knob but before she could turn it, the full weight of Jackson's body shoved her into the wood from behind. All of the wind was knocked out of her lungs and she lost focus. Jackson turned her around to face him. Lisa had barely enough time to make out the fury in his eyes before his fist slammed into the side of her face. An explosion of pain caused a circus of colored dots to appear before her eyes. Darkness swallowed her for just a moment as she fell limply to the floor.

Jackson breathed deeply as he watched her, trying to calm his anger. A part of him was annoyed that he lost his temper so quickly, but he had to admit if felt good to physically let out his frustration on someone. Memories from the past week filled Jackson with anger. Before the Keefe failure, Jackson had been notorious for his ability to control his emotions, but right now he wanted nothing more than to let his emotions control him. And there were only two emotions Jackson could associate with Lisa: hate and lust.

He watched as Lisa put a hand against the floor and started to lift herself from the ground. Jackson's jaw clenched as another wave of anger swept through his body. Without thinking, he brought his foot back and gave a swift kick to her stomach. Lisa let out a cry of pain and fell back onto the floor, clutching her front. He watched her for a moment as she attempted to regain her breath, then bent down and grabbed her by the nape of her neck, forcing her to look up at him.

"Maybe you're not as smart as I gave you credit for."

Lisa looked at him disdainfully. "Go to hell, Jack."

"I'm sure I'll see you down there, Leese." He pulled her up from the ground and over to the bed, grabbing the handcuffs from the floor. He snapped one of the cuffs around her right wrist and the other to the metal rod of her bedpost. He pushed her against the bed and straddled her, gripping her chin tightly in his hand. "Until then, we should have a little fun. What do you think, sweetheart?"

Lisa's heart pounded as she brought up her free hand and pushed against his chest, attempting to put some space between them. She shivered as an unfamiliar wave of fear slithered through her. Jackson had frightened her before, of course, but he always seemed to have an air of restraint and self control about him. There was a part of Lisa that knew he would never try anything sexual or violent with her. It was purely action, consequence with Jackson. He would dole out punishments only when punishments were needed. But he seemed different now. He seemed less controlled. She looked up at Jackson and searched his face. "What happened to you?" She asked quietly.

Jackson smirked. "This is the real me, Leese. You should feel honored. Not many people get to experience Jackson Rippner at his finest."

"You're disgusting."

Jackson leaned in close, his hand trailing down the side of her body and his breath warming her lips. "Just wait. We haven't even gotten to the good part yet."

His hand landed just above her breast and he lightly traced his finger over the area. The hitch in Lisa's breathing didn't escape his notice.

"Jackson…don't."

A part of Jackson hesitated then, the part that remembered who he used to be before his life turned to shit. But, once again, he allowed his hate and lust to direct his motions and without a second thought about his decision, he tightened his grip on her chest. Lisa opened her mouth to protest and Jackson took this opportunity to slip his tongue inside next to hers. He groped her harshly and smiled as Lisa moaned in pain and embarrassment into his mouth. She squirmed against him which only heightened Jackson's desire. He lost himself in the moment as his hand found its way underneath her shirt and bra. Lisa pushed at him, but he hardly noticed. He reveled in his newfound freedom, given to him by his uncontrolled emotions.

His hand started to drift down towards Lisa's skirt. She struggled more than ever but Jackson simply grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled back, successfully rendering her motionless. With his other hand, he followed her thigh up to the top of her legs, his fingers dancing over her heated core. His mouth moved to her neck, where he sucked harshly at her fragile skin. Lisa begged quietly for him to stop and sobbed against him.

At the sound of her cry, Jackson suddenly hesitated. Blinking rapidly, he took his hand out from under her skirt and pulled away from her neck, suddenly realizing what he was about to do. His hand was still tangled in her hair, and he stared into her face, trying to pull himself together. Lisa lay perfectly still against the bed terrified to move, yet wanting so badly to push him off of her body. They sat there, staring at each other for a few moments before Jackson suddenly got up.

"We have to go." He walked to Lisa's closet, grabbing a bag and hastily stuffing it with her clothes. Lisa watched him as he packed, confused by his actions. She pulled herself into a sitting position and checked to make sure her clothes were still covering her. Jackson finished throwing her belongings into the bag and walked over to Lisa, taking the key to the handcuffs from his pocket. She flinched back as he approached her. "Calm down Leese, I'm just-"

A knock on the front door echoed through the apartment. Time seemed to stop as both Jackson and Lisa's heads whipped toward the door. Silence followed, and Lisa thought she had imagined the noise before another knock sounded. _'Greg!'_

Lisa looked back at Jackson. Taking advantage of his hesitation, she screamed.

"HELP! PLEASE-" At the sound of her voice, Jackson quickly regained focus and clamped his hand against her mouth.

"Lisa?" She could faintly hear Greg's muffled, yet concerned voice as he yelled through the door. His knocking became more persistent.

Jackson bent down and whispered into the shell of her ear. "Shh, Leese…We wouldn't want someone thinking you might be in trouble."

Lisa immediately noticed the change in him as he suddenly transformed into the calm, suave manager he was before the Keefe failure. His face became a stoic mask, but Lisa could clearly see the suppressed anger hiding beneath his eyes.

He reached around and pulled a knife from the holster on his ankle, lightly tracing the sharp blade down her cheek before pushing himself away from her. Lisa watched as he put a finger to his lips and casually moved towards the door. Her heart raced; she knew she should warn Greg, but her mouth wouldn't form the words. This new unpredictable Jackson was much more frightening than the man who had kidnapped her just a week ago. She was sure that, unlike a few months ago, he wouldn't hesitate to punish her if she misbehaved in any way.

"Jackson…Jackson, please don't hurt him!"

Jackson glanced at her, his knuckles white as his grip tightened on the blade handle. He continued to walk toward the front door and just as he reached out to turn the handle, Lisa's mouth decided to cooperate.

"Greg! Run!" Her voice echoed through the apartment, but her warning came a second too late. Just as she was screaming, Jackson opened the door and grabbed Greg by the neck, kneeing him swiftly in the stomach and throwing him inside. Greg landed heavily on the floor, completely stunned and out of breath while Jackson closed and locked the front door and walked casually over to the kitchen counter, leaning against it. Lisa could see very little from her position on the bed, only Jackson's leg and half of Greg's body. She stood up and pulled frantically against the handcuffs.

"Jackson! Please, don't hurt him!"

He didn't pay attention to her. Instead, he watched as Greg lifted himself from the floor and backed away from him, clutching his stomach.

"What the hell…Who are you?"

Jackson smiled. "Oh, Greg, you really don't know who I am? I figured Lisa would have told you all about me by now."

Greg stared at him for several seconds before recognition and understanding crossed his features. His face screwed up in anger. "What did you do to Lisa?" he demanded.

"Leese? Oh she's fine. She's in her room, if you'd like to go say hi."

Greg immediately ran past Jackson and headed toward where Lisa stood, helpless. She panicked. "No! Greg, go! Get out of here!" She knew if he came into the room he'd have no chance to escape. She didn't want to think about what Jackson was planning to do to him.

Of course he didn't listen to her. He ran right into the room and over to where she stood. He fingered the handcuff then cupped her face in his hands. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Lisa felt the tears coming, but forced herself not to cry. "I'm fine. He…" Lisa trailed off as Jackson sauntered into the room and rested against the doorframe, staring at them. "I'm fine." She said again.

Greg's expression dropped as he gently traced the side of her face, which had already begun to bruise. She grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers. "Really, I'm ok." She once again looked past him into Jackson's blank eyes. "Please, you need to leave! Get out of here!" she whispered.

But Greg wasn't listening. Instead, he followed her frightened gaze and angrily began walking toward Jackson. "You son of a bitch. I'll fucking _kill _you."

Jackson smirked in amusement. "Wow, Leese. A guy who knows what a screw up you are and is still willing to defend your honor. I think you found yourself a keeper."

Greg reached Jackson and lifted his arm, his fist flying toward Jackson's face. Jackson lifted his arm in response, easily deflecting the blow. He jabbed his own fist into Greg's stomach and grabbed him by the neck, smashing his head against the wall. Lisa screamed for him to stop, but Jackson continued to beat the poor man until he was lying on the floor, barely conscious, spitting blood from his lips.

A phone rang. Suddenly, Jackson stopped beating on Greg and took out a cell. He walked a few steps away and put his hand over his ear to block out Lisa's cries. "Yeah?....I had to take care of something….I know, we're coming….Yeah, we're coming!"

He snapped the phone shut and turned towards Lisa, uncuffing her from the bed. "Sorry Greg, but I'm afraid we're gonna have to cut this party short. Lisa and I have a plane to catch."

Lisa was hysterical at this point. She was screaming at Jackson and pounding her fists against him, trying desperately to get to Greg. Jackson held her waist tight and put a hand over her mouth.

"Shh, Leese…calm down."

She didn't listen, of course. Instead she fought harder causing Jackson to sigh in frustration. He took her by the neck and pressed down on a pressure point, catching her as she fell unconscious. He threw her over his shoulder and grabbed the bag of clothes he had packed.

Greg slowly pulled himself up and leaned against the wall for support. He coughed and spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "You won't get away with this…the cops'll find you…you won't hurt her."

Jackson walked over to him and grabbed his chin. His eyes narrowed in anger. "I _already_ got away with it. This time isn't any different. And in case you haven't noticed, the justice system in this country is shit. We'll be long gone before they even realize we left. So say goodbye to Leese, cause this is the last time you're gonna see her." He roughly let go and began to walk through the apartment. He opened the door, but stayed standing in the threshold.

He looked behind him. "I hope you know it's because of her you're not dead right now."

Jackson stayed there another moment, but when he didn't get answer he walked out of the apartment. As the door shut, Greg let out a mournful sound and fell to the ground, crying.

**Loooooooooong. So, so long. I know it kind of skips to Lisa's apartment, but the thought is that Jackson stayed with Adam and sort of got everything in order…don't worry, it'll make sense in the next chapter. Hopefully it won't take as long to update. It probs won't because I don't think I'll be able to physically write another chapter as long as this one.  
Ok you know the drill. Please please PLEEEEEEASE review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, this is really really really really really really really really bad and sloppy and gross and short and I'm totally not happy with it, but I felt so guilty about the wait that I just had to put something up. Here's something to keep you interested. I hope people still kind of care about this story! I'm trying, I really am. **

**JACKSON**

Jackson laid Lisa in the backseat of the SUV before getting in himself, slamming the door in the front. Adam turned from his spot at the wheel and glanced back at the woman who had given his friend so much trouble these past few months. She was pretty beat up, but that was only to be expected. As much as Jackson tried to deny it, he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to lash out at someone when he's pissed. He almost felt sorry for the poor girl. She didn't intend for any of this to happen, she was simply trying to protect herself. That was why Adam had stayed out of the assassin business when he was younger. Not that he ever actually had the potential to become one, but if he did, he would have steered clear. He didn't have the stomach for it. It was a messy job and screwed people up more than they already were. He looked at Jackson. He first met his friend ten years back when Jackson was busy filing papers and getting coffee for the big guys. He walked through the office with such confidence, telling jokes when the time warranted it, buying drinks for the other low lifes on the totem pole. He was different back then, less anxious. Now he was bordering insane. He had sold his soul for a six zero paycheck. He kept up the calm exterior fairly well, but it was easy for Adam to see straight through to the raging inside. But he wasn't one to get too involved in people's personal lives. Or, at least, _Jackson's_ personal life. He'd let him have his fun and hopefully he'd cool down once the Company stopped looking for him. For now, Adam decided to mind his own business and just thank God he wasn't the unconscious girl lying in the back seat.

Jackson buckled his seat belt. "Move." As the car began rolling, Jackson took out the folder holding their new identities. Adam had worked tirelessly these past few days to create a whole new life for him and Lisa. It was more than Jackson needed, but he was grateful for all the effort he had put into the project. He pulled out their driver's licenses- Jonathan and Leah Riner- and replaced his old one in his wallet. He left the rest of their lives in the folder, closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the seat.

Adam sped through the quiet suburban town. In twenty minutes, they would reach the private jet hangers where Adam would say goodbye to Jackson. About fifteen hours after that, Jackson and Lisa would land in Australia where, hopefully, they'd never be heard from again.

**GREG**

"_Breaking News: Earlier today, a bomb exploded in center city destroying more than half a city block. So far, twenty seven casualties have been reported. Forty two pedestrians have been checked in to the hospital, many of whom are now in critical condition. Experts agree that the source of the explosion came from a car bomb, which was found to be professionally hand crafted. Police do not have a suspect in custody at this time, but they agree that this may have been terrorist related. Many have noticed the recent rise in terrorist activity, the mayor included, who has raised the level of security throughout the city to match that of 9/11…"_

Greg stared blankly at the television, not at all listening to the blonde reporter babbling on the screen. He didn't see the flashing images of burning buildings and cars in the city; no, all he could see was Lisa as she struggled against Jackson's grip and her limp broken body as he carried her out of the apartment. He couldn't believe that someone could be so cruel as to harm and kidnap another human being. It made him sick. But who was worse? The kidnapper or the person who could just stand by and watch without doing anything to stop him?

Greg suddenly stood up. He made his way over to the wall and slammed his fist against it, over and over again until his knuckles bled. He was breathing hard by the time he stopped. He stared at the red stain he had made on the wall. He should have done something more to help Lisa. He should have called the police when she first told him about Jackson, should have kept her at his place and kept her safe, should have…there were too many missed opportunities. And now she was gone, and it was entirely his fault.

He tore his eyes away from the bloody mess he had made and went to go nurse his bruised knuckles. There had to be a way he could help Lisa. He was the only one who had seen Jackson take her, who could possibly know the extent of harm he could do to her. The police had been less than helpful. When they showed up at Lisa's apartment, they took some fingerprints and fabric found at the scene, only to admit they would have no way to search for Mr. Rippner. Greg had asked an older detective to give him a candid answer, which was a disappointing one. "Honestly," the man said, "It's gonna be tough. The name 'Jackson Rippner' technically doesn't exist. This guy has no age, finger prints, social security number…" He shrugged. "We're not positive he's affiliated with any known terrorist association, but if he is, the terrorist network is huge. He could be anywhere in the world right now with the absolute best resources to keep hidden. You've given us some good information to start with, but we're gonna need a lot more to make some legitimate progress. We'll keep you updated when we find something though." Greg was left with the man's card and very little hope to keep him going.

If he were going to save Lisa, the police would be the last on his list when asking for help. Honestly, he had no clue as to where to start. He had no connections and Jackson had not hinted where he was taking Lisa. Greg sighed and sat back down in the living room. His entire body screamed in pain from the beating he had suffered at Jackson's hands, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the guilt eating away at him. He turned the volume way up on the television to distract himself. It took him a few seconds to focus on the screen, but he soon realized that the blonde reporter was still talking about the explosion. _'Like I care…" _Greg pointed the remote at the television, but stopped as he took a closer look at the surveillance tape they were showing. A store's camera caught the whole disaster. Bright white blotted out most of the screen and people were flown across the street. A man landed right under the store's entrance, and unless he was mistaken, Greg could have sworn he recognized the man's features. Dark hair, lanky, well dressed…

He jumped up from his chair and ran into the kitchen, searching through some piles of paper till he found what he was looking for: the old detective's card. He dialed the number and tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter until a chipper voice interrupted the beeping tones in his ear. "This is Detective Rosenbaum."

"Detective, this is Gregory O'hara."

"Greeegory…oh yeah, from the Reisert crime scene. How can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if the explosion in Center City had anything to do with the attack on Ms. Reisert?"

"Oh." The detective cleared his throat. "Well, um…they are two extremely different circumstances…and I'm not allowed to give out any classified information, terrible consequences…"

"Detective, I was watching the tape they had of the explosion and I recognized Jackson Rippner. He was there, at the bombing, and I think you know about it."

The old man sighed. "Look, Gregory, I know you're upset about Ms. Reisert, but I want you to know that we're doing everything-"

"Please. Just…tell me what you know."

There was silence on the other end. Greg held his breath until he felt lightheaded, and even then the detective said nothing. He waited another ten seconds before Rosenbaum finally answered him.

"I think you're a good kid, Gregory, and that's the only reason I'm gonna give you this information. If they ever found out, I'd be fired like _that_. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid with it."

Greg promised, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

"We knew almost immediately that the bombing was terrorist related. It was placed right outside of the Beaderhill Suites. The guy who lives in the penthouse there, goes by the name of Adam Cresswood. Didn't take long for us to figure out that this guy was associated with some pretty bad people at one point. We toyed around with all the possibilities, but we don't think it was a coincidence that the explosion occurred right outside his place. It wasn't till later, when we watched the surveillance tape, that we recognized Jackson. We think he might have been in correspondence with Mr. Cresswood just before the bomb went off."

"You don't think Jackson could have set the bomb there himself?"

"No, he was caught in the crossfire. If he set it up himself, he would have been long gone before anyone got hurt. We think it was meant for either Jackson or Adam, we're not sure yet which one. But we believe both incidents are somehow related with one another."

His stomach tightened in excitement. "How can I find this Cresswood guy?"

"Now I definitely can't tell you _that_. Gregory, you promised you wouldn't do anything stupid. You want my opinion? Try to forget about the girl. There's not much you can do and you shouldn't feel obligated to go and get yourself killed for her. I promise, besides her father you will be the first to know about any developments involving this case."

Greg stood there silently for several moments. He felt like a deflated balloon. He had rushed himself into a hopeful oblivion that made reality difficult to face again. There was a second where he had imagined himself running into a room full of terrorists with a machine gun in his hands and saying something witty right before he filled them all with lead. He'd sweep Lisa into his arms and carry her off into the sunset, where they'd live and he would keep her safe from all harm. But of course that could not happen. Instead, Lisa would probably wind up dead at the hands of a sadistic psychopath and Greg would have to live with the knowledge that he had a hand in her terrible, bloody fate.

"Greg? You still there?"

Greg cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry."

The detective sighed. "Get some rest. Go out, do something constructive. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

"Yeah. Thanks." He hung up the phone, and with it, any hopes of saving the girl he fell for the moment he held her in his arms.

**What do you think? Any questions, comments, concerns? You know your reviews keep me motivated, so REVIEW, PEOPLE! Ok. I love you all. Adieu and good day.**


	11. Chapter 11

**ONTO THE NEXT CHAPTER! HUZZAH! Ok, #1. Happy Belated Christmas! #2. Happy Early New Years! #3. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! I love hearing back from you, you guys are the best! :) **

Lisa's mind began to clear. She wallowed at the brink of her consciousness, barely indulging in the random thoughts that hazily crossed her mind. She couldn't escape her pain for long, however- she soon became all too aware of her throbbing limbs and her nauseous stomach. She took a deep breath to try to calm the queasiness. After a minute or so, she decided it was time to take the next step. She squinted her eyes open slowly only to immediately slam them shut again as the artificial light hit them. Jesus, her head hurt. Blood pounded heavily against her temples, as if it were trying desperately to find its way out of her skull. An incessant humming droned harshly against her sensitive ears, only helping to worsen her migraine. She raised her hand and held it firmly against her forehead, hoping that would somehow ease the pain.

"Feelin' ok, Leese?"

Lisa's eyes snapped open and she jumped in her seat. Jackson was sitting next to her, his attention focused on sorting through a pile of papers on a small table in front of him. Lisa's heart pounded heavily against her chest at the sight of him. She wondered if there would ever be a time where his presence didn't provoke that kind of response from her. Hopefully she wouldn't have to be around him that long to find out. She tore her eyes away from Jackson and surveyed her surroundings. They were sitting in comfortable leather seats, but far too close to each other for comfort. There was a small rectangular window to her right, but it was so dark outside that all she could see were a few flashing lights blinking right next to her pane of plastic. She froze.

"Jackson…are we-?"

"On a plane?" He looked up from his papers and gave her a wink.

Lisa was instantly hit with an intense sense of claustrophobia. Memories she had worked so hard to try to suppress came flooding back to her. Jackson was too close, his cologne was too strong, his eyes too bright…She began to shake uncontrollably. She clenched her hands tightly against the arms of the chair to try and stop herself. Jackson smirked at her anxiety.

Lisa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Where are we going?"

"Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, now would we? Here," He threw a pile of papers onto her lap. "Read this. From now on you're known only as Mrs. Leah Riner. You are twenty eight years old, a high school English teacher, and you like to spend your free time reading books and going bowling."

Lisa picked up the papers with shaky hands. It felt like her mind had stopped working. Her eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, but still only one word resonated in her head. "…Mrs.?"

Jackson leaned over and roughly grabbed Lisa's left wrist. "Going on five years now. Happy anniversary, honey." He shoved a ring onto her finger, and Lisa was surprised to see how exquisitely beautiful it was. She shoved that thought aside and tore it off her hand.

"No. We are not married and there is no way in hell I'm going to pretend like we are."

Jackson's icy eyes bore into Lisa's, but she was too angry to back down. She held her gaze and raised her chin slightly in defiance.

"You don't really have a choice." He leaned in closer to her. "I don't have someone watching your father this time, Leese. I don't have anything to hold over your head except your own safety. Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. But I can guarantee that I won't hesitate to hurt you if you don't do exactly as I say. Got it?"

Lisa sat frozen in her seat, staring into Jackson's cold and unforgiving eyes. She knew he was telling the truth. He wasn't above torture or murder, and the fact that he was warning her not to push him was obviously red flag. Something had happened to him, she didn't know what, but it had changed him. He was far more frightening than the assassin she had met on the plane, the one who seemed to show the slightest bit of emotion when he noticed her scar and when she had told him her awful history.

Either anger of fear, Lisa didn't know which, sparked her next question and she daringly bore into Jackson's eyes. "Are you going to kill me?"

Jackson paused for a moment. "I don't think so. Not if you behave."

"Then why did you come back for me if you don't know what you want with me?" Lisa whispered vehemently.

The pause was much longer this time. Jackson's forehead twitched in thought, and his eyes never strayed from Lisa's. He clenched his jaw, something Lisa noticed he did when he was frustrated. "I'm not done with you yet." He answered finally.

He turned from her and continued looking through his papers. Lisa let out a breath of air. She wasn't sure what kind of answer she had been expecting from him, but she was hoping for something a little less vague. She turned her head to look out her window and tried focusing her mind on something less stressful. Her first thought was of Greg. Her heart skipped a beat and she closed her eyes tightly against the image that came to her mind- Jackson beating Greg violently in her own bedroom. God, she hoped he was ok. Her throat clenched and a tingling sensation burned against her eyes, but Lisa refused to cry. She swallowed painfully against her feelings and surreptitiously wiped a lone tear from her cheek. She hoped Greg had gone to the police; maybe there was still a chance for her rescue. Jackson had caused so much chaos over the last few weeks- months really- Lisa was certain there had to be a whole section of the FBI dedicated to catching him. It shouldn't take more than, oh, two weeks for them to find her. With her renewed hope for survival, Lisa leaned her head against the cold windowpane and closed her eyes, desperate for some sleep.

Sleep never came, however.

Lisa willed herself to relax, but she soon decided it was impossible. Jackson continued to shuffle his papers around and every time his arm brushed against hers, her heart would beat at an outrageous speed. Her body ached and refused to find comfort. Her head pounded and her throat silently screamed protest every time she swallowed. Eventually she just conceded to staring out her window, watching as the sun slowly rose beside her. Finally, Jackson stowed away his papers and the plane began its descent. Lisa watched as the bright blue water and green trees grew closer to her. Her ears popped in time with their decline. She tiredly asked Jackson once more where they were.

He checked his seatbelt. "Welcome to Australia, Leese." The jet touched down merely a second after he said this, and Lisa grabbed on to her chair for support as the plane jutted and shook with their landing. Lisa wearily thought about how she had always wanted to visit Australia. Never in her life did she imagine it happening like this.

The next few hours were a blur. Jackson escorted Lisa's tired and disoriented self off of the plane and into a waiting SUV which drove them through a beautiful city. She must have dozed off in the car because the next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake by her impatient captor, who half carried half dragged her inside a building. He led her onto an old uncomfortable mattress and for the first time in what felt like forever, Lisa fell into a natural sleep.

The following days were torture.

Not because Jackson was constantly hovering over her- simply the opposite. He was never around.

After Lisa had awoken that first day in Australia, Jackson had explained some rules to her.

He pointed to the front entrance. "I have the only key to that door. There is no way for you to leave this apartment, so don't even bother trying. You can help yourself to food and water in the kitchen, but I'm warning you now I took away all of the utensils. I have a lot of work to accomplish within the next couple of days, so I won't have the time or the patience to keep you out of trouble. But I'm telling you now- if you so much as _look_ at me the wrong way, life here will not be fun, I can guarantee it."

Lisa almost laughed when he said this, but somehow managed to hold back her contempt.

For the most part, Jackson kept his promise. He stayed in his little makeshift office, making phone calls and ruffling through mountains of paperwork. Lisa was free to roam the tiny apartment, which consisted of one bedroom, Jackson's workspace, a kitchen, living room, and a rather large closet- which was what Jackson referred to as "Lisa's room." It was an old building with no air conditioning and a very fickly faucet, but Lisa decided it had a quaint atmosphere. It reminded her very much of her first apartment, and although she was here under extremely unpleasant circumstances, it made her feel much more comfortable with the situation.

The days passed slowly. Lisa spent her time looking for ways to escape, but they were living on the fifth floor of the building and the one and only door leading to the outside world was locked consistently night and day. It hadn't taken Lisa long to realize there was very little hope that she would not be able to take the key from him without him noticing. Every now and then Jackson briefly left the house, but he always made sure there was no way for his creative captive to escape.

Lisa was beginning to get fed up with her meaningless routine. Every day she woke up, had a piece of fruit and a glass of water, stared out the window longingly, and retired to her closet to continue planning ways to escape. She had become slightly less fearful of Jackson since he stopped paying any kind attention to her. On the fourth day, however, he poked his head into Lisa's 'room' for the first time since he had taken her here. The news he gave her was a blessing, and Lisa could barely hide her joy. "I'm heading out for a few hours, Leese. I expect you to be sitting right there when I get back. Don't do anything stupid." And with that, he walked out the door, taking with him the only key they had.

Lisa immediately jumped off of her bed and got to work. She had realized the day before that she could use the coiled springs inside of her cheap, uncomfortable mattress as an improvised pick, something she had been searching for desperately ever since she first got here. Lisa spent the next few hours tediously ripping through the cloth on her mattress. It was a monotonous job since she had no kind of sharp object to help her, but she kept at it and eventually managed to reach in and feel the springs. She pulled one out and tried her best to straighten it, smiling in pride as she looked upon her means of escape. She ran to the front door before looking at the clock. Jackson had been gone for four hours now. He hadn't said how long he would be gone, but Lisa had a gnawing suspicion in her stomach that he would be home at any minute. She stood beside the door biting her lip, debating whether or not she had the time to test out her plan, but despite her better judgment, she hastily knelt down and slid the thin metal into the keyhole. She had never been the rebellious teenager type, one who had practiced sneaking out of the house late at night, so the whole picking-the-lock thing was new to her. It took her much longer than she had expected before she heard a satisfying 'click' and she sighed in thanks. Lisa hurriedly opened the door and rushed out into the hallway, wasting no time before she found the staircase and flew out the building's main entrance.

She hesitated outside of the door for a moment. It was pouring rain and as a consequence not many people were walking the streets, which made it difficult for Lisa to blend into a crowd. She had no money, no ID, not even shoes. Now that she was standing free outside, she had absolutely no idea where to go. '_Think, Lisa.' _Suddenly she knew- and she kicked herself in embarrassment for not realizing it earlier. She needed to find a police station, or an American Embassy, or whatever the hell kind of organization that would help her in Australia. She turned to start walking down the street and caught a glimpse of dark shaggy hair strolling toward her about fifty meters away. Her heart stopped beating as her eyes connected with cerulean blue. Jackson stopped in shock and slowly took his hands out of his pockets, anger washing over every feature of his face. Lisa turned swiftly on her feet and sprinted in the opposite direction.

Her bare feet slammed heavily against the wet pavement and it wasn't long before her entire body was completely drenched. Her clothes weighed down on her, but she didn't dare let up as she turned down unfamiliar streets and passed curious faces. After running for at least five minutes, Lisa made the mistake of looking behind her. She caught sight of Jackson who was a mere fifty feet behind her and gaining fast. She whipped her head around and immediately ran into a small group of people, falling backwards and hastily apologizing to the strangers. She struggled to get back up and continued running, but at that point knew it was pointless. She had nowhere to go and Jackson was far faster than she was. In a last ditch effort, Lisa turned down another corner and found herself in a long, slim alley way. The street on the other side was far more crowded than the one she just left, and a surge of adrenaline suddenly rushed through her. If she could just get to the end, she could call for help. People would have to notice her, why hadn't she asked that group of people she ran into, maybe someone could get her to the police, if she could only reach the end…

Jackson grasped Lisa's arm in an iron grip and yanked her body against his. Lisa's shoulder screamed in agony and she opened her mouth to voice her pain before Jackson's hand found her lips. He threw her against the brick wall and held her there with his hand and body. His anger and frustration was palpable and Lisa closed her eyes in defeat.

"Look at me Lisa." Jackson panted. His voice was surprisingly quiet, which somehow made the situation all the worse.

Lisa slowly opened her eyes and Jackson's hand left her mouth.

"Always the clever one. I told you not to leave the apartment."

This time, Lisa did laugh. "You thought I'd listen to you?"

Jackson's jaw clenched and his grip on her arms tightened menacingly. "It's dangerous for you to be out here right now."

"No, it's dangerous for me to be with _you_."

"Lisa!" Jackson suddenly yelled. Lisa jumped in fright and quieted immediately. "The people I used to work for are not happy with the way the Keefe assignment turned out. They framed me for a crime I did not commit, and now I have several of the world's most powerful assassins out to kill me. I have tried really hard these last couple of days to keep us hidden, but I happen to know they've figured out where we're hiding and are keeping tabs on me. It is _not_ _safe_ for you to be outside."

A familiar anger flared through Lisa, one that she knew usually got her into trouble but allowed to control her anyway. "You came to Australia to get away from people who are trying to kill you…and you brought me with you?"

"We don't have time to stand here and talk about it, we need-"

"No! What is going on, Jackson? You dragged me halfway across the world so I can watch you go through your paperwork? I'm with a killer who is being chased by killers. This is insane! What's going on? I deserve to know!"

Jackson suddenly let go of her arms and turned around, sighing in frustration. He stood with his back facing her. "These people are sick, Leese. They know I didn't steal from them, and yet this guy is still chasing after me- not just trying to kill me anymore, trying to fuck with my head. He's been sending me stuff, pictures and notes…" He turned around. "He knows about you. He will kill you, and as much as I hate you, Leese, I do not want that to happen." He held out his hand.

Lisa was taken aback. After all that she had gone through with Jackson, she was surprised that hearing someone was trying to kill her still shocked her. She glanced at his hand and, although she wanted nothing more than to see Jackson die a brutal death, grasped it with hers. She knew that if there was anyone able to keep her alive, it was this guy. After all of the shit he put her through, deep down there was a part of her that felt safe next to him, like he could take on any obstacle that came in her way. Lisa did not want to die, and right now she needed all the artillery she could get.

They turned to leave the alley, but Lisa should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. A black SUV suddenly screeched up to the entrance, blocking their way. Jackson looked over his shoulder but was greeted by the sight of two men making their way towards them through the opposite end. He grasped Lisa's arm and pulled her closer to him, determined to protect his property.

Two more men stepped out of the car. One was dressed in the same outfit as the men behind Jackson and Lisa, wearing black pants and a black t shirt. The other man Jackson knew immediately to be Fedorov. He was older, and yet despite his age he was surprisingly handsome. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair and wore an expensive yet tasteful suit. He popped an umbrella as he stepped onto the pavement.

The two assassins walking behind them had reached their goal and grabbed Jackson roughly. Jackson put up a fight, managing to get in a few blows of his own. He broke the first man's nose in a confusion of noise and blood and gave the other assassin a healthy kick in the abdomen, but the combined strength of the two men was too much for Jackson, who had just chased Lisa halfway across town and was still recovering from his own beating not too long ago. They each took an arm and managed to hold him still long enough for Jackson to notice Lisa. The third assassin had grabbed her in the struggle and had one arm wrapped tightly around her stomach and the other one pushing her face back onto his shoulder. Her toes barely reached the ground and were desperately trying to find support against the assassin's brutal grip on her. Lisa, too, put up a struggle, but there was absolutely no chance for her fragile self to win and the assassin simply responded by clenching her mouth tighter, eliciting a muffled moan from the girl. Jackson stopped moving altogether at the sight of her, afraid that any movement from him would be the death of her.

Fedorov walked slowly towards Jackson until he was a mere five inches from his body.

"So," he began, "this is the elusive Mr. Rippner. It's so nice to finally meet you face to face."

Jackson refused to respond. He stared furiously into Fedorov's eyes, silently swearing revenge on the man who had single handedly screwed up his life.

Fedorov suddenly looked to his right. "Ah, and this must be Ms. Reisert." He took a moment to look her up and down, not attempting to hide his lust. "I can see why you've taken such an interest in her."

"Leave her out of this. You came for me, here I am."

Fedorov gave Jackson a twisted smile. "But you see Mr. Rippner, I am not here for you. It is true, my hatred for you exceeds that of which I've felt in a very long time- which in a normal case means you would have been dead the moment I laid eyes on you."

"Kill me then."

Fedorov sighed. "You're too much fun, Mr. Rippner. I admit I am reluctant to give up something that has kept me so entertained." He lifted his arm and checked his Rolex watch. "I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but I must be going now. I do look forward to seeing you again soon."

He gave his men a little nod and turned. The two assassins holding Jackson let go immediately, but Lisa was dragged roughly down the alleyway behind Fedorov. She fought against the man's strong grip, her feet kicking into his legs and digging into the ground, but he was far too strong. She whipped her head back and looked over her shoulder, her wet auburn curls clinging to her pale cheeks at odd angles. "Jackson!" she screamed. "Jackson, please!"

He almost went after them. He wanted more than anything to go and kill them all for what they were planning to do to his Leese, and more importantly, what they had done to him. The distress on her face broke his cold heart, but he stood his ground. He knew they would kill her instantly if he chased them, which was exactly what they wanted him to do. Jackson was a threat to anyone he met, but he wasn't stupid. He didn't stand a chance against five professional, armed assassins.

The group made it to the SUV when Lisa finally managed to slip free of the assassin's grip. Instead of running, however, Jackson watched as she turned and punched the man full in the face. The assassin howled in shock and pain and Jackson could have sworn he saw a glimpse of red as he pulled his hand away from his nose. Jackson smiled sadly. 'That's my girl…'

Another of Fedorov's men grabbed Lisa from behind as the bleeding man standing in front of her overcame his shock. He smacked her violently across the face and her body went limp as they shoved her into the backseat of the car. Fedorov rolled down the window in the front. "We'll be in touch" he promised.

Jackson let the rain fall down on him as the SUV drove down the street. _'Don't worry, Leese. I'm not done with you yet.'_

**Lemme know what you think! We're getting pretty close to the end here…I'm feelin' a need for an Adam reappearance…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Yoooo! WASSUP. So here's another chapter. It's rather short, but I figured a short update is better than no update, yes, no, yes, no, maybe, yes? I like to think so. Read, enjoy, go ahead, don't let me be a distraction :)**

**Jackson**

Jackson watched as the SUV drove away, his possession and the last of his pride along with it. The rain fell lazily onto his already soaked body and he let his head fall backwards, welcoming the cold drops of water as they hit his face. For the first time since this whole thing had started, Jackson wanted to give up. He was tired of thinking, of running, of worrying. All he wanted to do was sit inside a warm, dry living room, make himself a microwave dinner and watch a movie like any other normal citizen. Jackson almost laughed at the image- that wasn't him, it never had been. He wasn't a normal citizen. While other people sat in front of a television Jackson was busy planning the end of politician's and hotel manager's lives or running from psychopathic assassins. That was his life and he had come to terms with that fact a long time ago. But right now, Jackson honestly did not know what he was going to do.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. Jackson turned around and saw a young man racing towards him, an umbrella in his hand bending against the wind. "Oi! Do you need me to call the police?"

Jackson hesitated. How much did he see? Was it smart to get the cops involved?

The man noticed Jackson's hesitation and slowed down. "I saw those men hit that girl, they looked like they were forcing her into that car…do you need help? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Jackson had to make a decision. The man obviously saw more than he should have, but Jackson couldn't kill him for it. It also might not be such a bad idea to get the police involved, Jackson thought. He figured he should try and put as much heat as possible on Fedorov. The police wouldn't be able to stop him, but they might distract him long enough for Jackson to figure out a way to save Lisa. And Jackson had spent enough time hiding from the police, he was sure he wouldn't have a problem doing it now.

Jackson called upon his best Australian accent and put on an act worthy of a Golden Globe award. "They took my wife!" he said, improvising rather nicely. "I don't know who they are, but they said I owe them money…please, call the police!"

The young man fell for it. His eyes lost all hint of suspicion and he nodded his head earnestly, taking out his cell phone and turning slightly in order to dial in the call. Jackson used his moment of distraction and walked around the corner of the alleyway back toward his apartment. He figured it would take at least until tomorrow for the American government to get wind of the Australian kidnapping and be able to link it to Jackson. It would only take another five minutes for Adam to hear about it, and Jackson was sure he would hear from him as soon as he got the news. Until then, Jackson needed to prepare. Motivation hit him and he fell into a steady jog, then a full fledge sprint as he made his way towards his apartment. Lisa wouldn't last long with Fedorov. Jackson didn't have any time to spare.

**Lisa**

Lisa was dizzy from both the vicious slap and the sudden turn of events, but she forced herself to try and concentrate. The men pushed her into the car so she was squished between two assassins in the back as the third took the driver's seat and Fedorov made himself at home in the passenger's. She had barely gotten a hold of her bearings before a dark bag was thrust over her head. She went to pull it off, but her wrists were grabbed by the man on her left and taped together painfully. She felt the car pull away from the curb and her heart began to race. Hundreds of images flew through her mind: Her in a cell, starving. Her being raped. Her dead body being thrown in a ditch somewhere in Australia, never to be found. She bit her lip painfully to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail. She felt the first fall free and it wasn't long before she had to sniff to keep from becoming a total mess. The noise caught the attention of the assassin on her right, who was busy nursing his bruised ego as he wiped blood from his face. He paused in his efforts of cleaning himself and Lisa heard him laugh quietly before he reached over, draping one arm around her neck pulling her closer to him, the other resting on her upper thigh. Lisa let out a quiet sob as his hand slid under her skirt and continued to inch higher up her leg. Lisa pushed against his chest with her taped hands but he merely dug his elbow tighter around her neck.

"Shh, don't fight…" His words were muffled against the bag Lisa wore over her head but the noise was so close to her ear she let out another frightened sound. The hand keeping her head close to his slid under the top of her shirt and began making its way down toward Lisa's chest. Lisa fought harder, determined not to let this man have his way with her.

"Behave yourself, Riley." As soon as Fedorov spoke, Riley sighed in defeat and reluctantly let go of his newfound toy. Lisa moved as far away from him as she could, her body leaning entirely on the assassin on her left, whom she decided was far less frightening than Riley. The assassin sighed but made no attempt to push her away.

"You will have to forgive my men for being so forward, Ms. Reisert. They are not used to dealing with such…delicate property. I apologize for the damage they may have inflicted upon your face as well. I gave my men explicit orders to act civil while in your presence. It will not happen again."

Lisa let out an audible sigh at hearing this, somewhat relieved that Fedorov was willing to spare her any form of physical abuse. Maybe he wasn't as bad as Jackson made him out to be.

"At least not during the car ride there," Fedorov added. Riley laughed cruelly at this, sending goose bumps down Lisa's arms. She immediately thought of how she missed Jackson. She hated herself for it, but she decided she would rather take the known enemy over the unknown any day. She knew all of Jackson's quirks and what made him angry. She was safe in the knowledge that Jackson would always stop himself before he took a punishment too far. At least, the old Jackson would. But she would even take her chances with the new crazy Jackson she thought as she felt Riley's fingers lightly traced their way up and down her leg.

The ride lasted for an hour or so. Lisa spent the time leaning into the man on her left and thinking of the life she left back in the States. She missed Greg. She knew under any other circumstances she would never allow herself to become so close to man under such a short amount of time, especially after her encounter with Jackson, but she couldn't help but feel safe around him. That was a feeling she was a serious need of now. Lisa was slowly coming to the realization that she was probably going to die. She could see no way out of the situation she was in. She of course had faith in Jackson's ability to kill people, but she did not think he was capable of taking on an entire company worth of assassins, no matter how talented he was. And she in no way had any faith in her own ability to get out of this alive. She survived the red eye flight, but she had already admitted to herself that it was mostly due to luck and timing. There was only so much luck life afforded a person, and Lisa was sure she had used up her quota by not being killed as of yet.

The car pulled to a stop and Lisa heard doors open all around her. She tripped slightly on the concrete as Riley dragged her from the car. She hated the feeling of dependency she had on the assassin. She wanted nothing more than to have the bag taken off of her head, but no move was made to do so as the men continued to lead her into a building. Eventually, after a few minutes of concentrating solely on her feet, Lisa was pushed into a hard chair. Her hands were untied and reattached to the wooden arms.

"Be a good girl, Ms. Reisert, and wait here patiently until I return," Fedorov said evenly. "I am very excited to spend some quality time with you, but unfortunately, I have some work to accomplish before we have our fun." With that the men left her alone in the room, leaving the bag over her head keeping her blinded from her surroundings.

Lisa waited a few minutes, the silence ringing loudly in her ears. She was already starting to lose circulation in her hands, and she pushed her wrists slightly against the arms of the chair to try and get the blood flowing again. Suddenly the gravity of the situation hit her. There was a pain growing in her chest that soon proved to be a constant reminder of the fate that awaited her. Lisa paused for another minute to listen to the silence that surrounded her, making sure she was truly alone. Eventually, she decided it didn't matter whether she was or she wasn't. She let her defenses fall and slumped heavily in her seat.

And then she cried.

**Adam**

Adam put his feet up on the desk in front of him and leaned back in his chair, taking a swig of beer from the bottle he held. He stared intently at the computer screens blinking in front of him, each displaying a conversation he was in the process of listening to. He had been at this for hours now. He was almost embarrassed to admit to the fact that this was his only hobby. For a second he had considered taking up racquetball, but soon decided that he didn't look good in short shorts and that the sport itself was just far too much work. He would much rather spend his time hacking into government files and listening to police scanners while taste testing different brands of alcohol.

The fifth screen in the row of computers suddenly caught his attention. He flicked some buttons and put on a set of headphones, listening in on a conversation the chief of police was having with an average citizen.

"-with the Australian head of police. He said he received a call from a man who witnessed a kidnapping. A few men supposedly beat up a girl and forced her into a vehicle, driving away with her and leaving her said husband on the side of the road. The description of the girl and the description of the man she was with match up with Rippner and Ms. Reisert. We did some research and found an apartment where Rippner seemed to be staying. It's not much, but it's definitely a lead. We now have reason to believe that Ms. Reisert may be alive, and we are in contact with the Australians to try and keep her so."

"You're sure it was Lisa? She's ok?" The other voice said. The man sounded utterly relieved.

"We're not jumping to conclusions. It really could have been anyone, but we're not taking any chances. We're looking into it now; we'll keep you updated if we receive any more information."

Adam ripped off his headphones. '_It's been one week and Jack's already screwed.' _He almost laughed. Jackson's luck had been extraordinarily low recently, he didn't know why he was so surprised that Fedorov had already tracked and approached Jackson. He reached into his pocket and flipped open his cell. Although he knew that Jackson would probably rather talk to Obama than he would with Adam, he put his phone up to his ear and counted the number of rings it took for Jackson to answer.

**What'dya think? Review, lemme know! **


	13. Author Note

Hey guys!

Thanks for all the reviews and comments and whatnot! Sorry this is kind of a tease, I don't mean to be annoying, I just wanted to update you on a few things. I'm working on the next chapter and I should have it up by the end of this week. I think I'm going to change this story to **M** because of upcoming violence and…suggestive themes. Just a warning. It's not gonna be too bad, but I feel like it maybe should have been M anyway due to the content thus far…but I trusted the youngin's out there not to act on a fanfic story, so I kept the rating as it was. I don't know how to keep the story realistic though without changing the rating, soooo just make sure to change the ratings to M or All to check for my update. Anywhoo…

Once again, thanks for the support. There's only a few more chapters left, I'm running out of steam on this and I'm working on another Red Eye story so keep your eye out for that! :) Let's try and hit the 100 review mark before the story's over!

If the next chapter isn't up before Sunday, I give you all permission to hunt me down and give me a stern talking to. Or just send me an annoyed message. Whichever you prefer.


	14. Chapter 14

**Yeah…I know…It's Wednesday. This took a lot longer than I had originally planned…It was actually really hard to write. It's not as violent as I thought it was going to be either, so if you were worried about that you can take a deep breath and begin reading safely. Also, I'd like to thank draco-cute for making sure I was working on this and keeping me motivated! I definitely needed that pick me up message. **

**LISA**

Hours had passed. Lisa now had no feeling in her hands and a tingling sensation had started up in her forearms. She tried desperately to keep her eyes open, but she had been up for almost twenty four hours now and her eyes continued to close involuntarily and her head drooped down toward her chest on multiple occasions. She refused to sleep, however. She already felt enormously vulnerable in her current situation; she would hate it if Fedorov were to walk in on her unconscious.

For the first few hours Lisa spent a good deal of time counting the seconds as they passed hoping that would keep her mind off the upcoming events. But exhaustion overwhelmed her system and made it hard for her to avoid thoughts about Jackson or Fedorov or Riley or Greg or her father...if she had anymore tears to shed she would not be able to keep herself from crying again.

A man came in at one point and escorted her to a bathroom, much to her delight. He took the bag off of her head before leading her into the crumbling room and Lisa cringed uncomfortably at the intrusive light. Unfortunately there was no mirror in the room so she could not check to see if she looked as disheveled as she felt. She did as much as she could for herself though and used the opportunity to drink from the faucet and wash her face. She held her red and chafed wrists under the cold water until the man called "Tim's up", opened the door and forced her to leave the safety of the bathroom. By the time she was tied back to her wooden chair she admittedly felt much better. At this point it was only the anxiety that ate at her. She was not sure how much longer she could sit alone in this room by herself with the thought that, as soon as Fedorov came back, she would most likely be killed.

The man had kept the bag off of her head and so for the first time she was able to see where she was being held. She seemed to be sitting in a small, empty office that had only one door and a window that gave her a view of the hallway outside. Every now and then a man would pass by, but very few would actually bother to look into the room and those who did did not give her a second glance. The fact that no one here seemed appalled or even slightly concerned that a random woman was tied to a chair and being held hostage in the same building that they were in made Lisa sick to her stomach. That meant they were used to it, that this was a common sight. Who would ever get themselves involved in shit like this? How did _she _end up getting involved in this?

The hours passed and although Lisa prayed that Fedorov would not come back, she knew his appearance was inevitable. The door opened rather suddenly and a dark haired man walked in with a chair, followed closely by Fedorov. The man stood next to Fedorov as he took his seat in front of Lisa and made a show of fixing his suit cuffs. Lisa's stomach churned at the sight of him. Maybe it was his age or his arrogance, but he was much more frightening than Jackson.

"I'm sorry I couldn't visit you sooner, Lisa- is it alright if I call you Lisa?" he questioned, looking with concern into her eyes. Lisa mustered up her best 'screw you, you're a fucking bastard who should go to hell' face, but she was pretty sure Fedorov could see through it. She gripped the arms of the chair to keep herself from shaking so much. It didn't help.

Fedorov took her silence as a yes and continued with his monologue. "Work has been especially strenuous recently. I have your boyfriend to thank for that." He chuckled. He looked amusedly at Lisa as if waiting for her to offer her opinion on the situation, but she said nothing. "You must be curious as to why you are here," he continued, "and I do not blame you in the slightest. To ease your confusion I have decided to be completely honest with you, Lisa. You mean nothing to me. I could kill you now and not have a single regret over the decision." He paused there for effect. Lisa swallowed, sensing that something bad was coming. "You do, however, mean very much to Mr. Rippner." And without hesitation, the man next to him reached out and backhanded Lisa with enormous force. The shock lasted for quite a few seconds before she was able to register the pain. She slowly turned her head back towards Fedorov, her hair creating a veil across her face.

"You see, I have been trying to think of an appropriate punishment for Mr. Rippner. I do not like thieves, especially those who think they can steal from me. So I have decided that the best way to retaliate is to steal something of value from him. That, my dear, is where you come in."

Lisa opened her mouth to clarify the situation. Jackson was not her boyfriend, and despite what he had told her earlier, he probably would not care if she died. She wanted to tell Fedorov that killing her would just be a waste of time. Before she could get any words out, however, a fist connected with her abdomen and all of the air left her body. She felt the pain immediately this time as one of her ribs cracked from the force of the blow. She stayed bent over in her chair, trying and failing to take in a breath of oxygen. Fedorov continued as if nothing had happened.

"Please, I do not want you to get the wrong impression of me. This is not how I normally conduct business." The man beside him laughed at hearing that. "This just seemed the most appropriate way to settle the issue."

At this point Lisa had regained her ability to breathe but she was having difficulty doing so because of the pain in her chest. "Please," she gasped, determined to explain her point of view to Fedorov. "I don't know anything!"

Fedorov laughed quietly to himself. "Oh, I know you don't Lisa. I don't need any information from you, I know everything I need to know."

"Then why am I here? Jackson doesn't care about me; he was going to kill me himself anyway. You can't use me to get to him, you have no leverage."

"I happen to know that Jackson cares very much about what happens to you. Jackson is an obsessive creature, and I believe he will go to great lengths to try and win you back. He will not be able to, of course, but he doesn't know that yet." He whispered this last part as if he was letting Lisa in on a secret.

A shiver went down Lisa's spine when she heard that. She quickly went over everything Jackson had said to her within the past few days, hoping there was something that could help her through this mess. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on anything, but Jackson had all but ignored her this past week so it was not hard to remember their conversations. He had mentioned Fedorov in a fit of frustration, but what had he said? She went over the memory in her mind. "Wait!" she whispered to herself. She lifted her dazed eyes up to meet Fedorov's. "Jackson told me he was set up. He told me he didn't do whatever you're accusing him of doing. He wouldn't lie to me, please, he told me he's innocent!" She couldn't help but keep the edge of hysteria out of her voice. If only she could convince him that Jackson was free of guilt, maybe he would look into it more and let her go. But Fedorov's expression did not change.

"I have already heard what Mr. Rippner has had to say for himself. He has tried to point us in another direction, but all of the evidence seems to continuously point towards him. He has lied to you, my dear. Do not take it to heart."

"Please, I don't-" Lisa's hysteria was cut off by the dark haired man's fist connecting with her jaw. She hardly heard herself cry out in pain and she tasted the copper tang of blood on her lip. She saw Fedorov stand up out of the corner of her eye. "I am sorry, but I am a very busy man and I no longer have time to discuss this with you. I hope you are not under the impression that I care about what happens to you. You are not at all important to me, and from now on I feel no need to meet with you in any way. I do not intend to leave you all alone again, however. I am a hospitable host, despite popular belief. I will send someone in to look after you." And with that, he turned and left the room, his subordinate following him without a second glance towards Lisa.

Lisa turned and spit out the blood filling her mouth. Her entire body hurt but she was sure this wasn't the end. Compared to the situations she had imagined, what had just happened seemed relatively humane. She took the moment of solitude to try and breathe but the pain in her chest caused her to tear up and she resorted to feeble gasps instead. A few minutes later she saw a figure pass in the window. Her heart stopped. The door opened and Riley walked in, cocky as ever. For the first time since her kidnapping she was able to get a good look at the man in front of her. He was tall, taller than Jackson, and had dark brown hair and black eyes. If Lisa was not being held captive by the company this man worked for and had merely seen him walking down the street, she might have given him a second glance. Right now however all she could remember were his hands groping her body in the car. She pulled futilely at the ropes holding her to the chair, never once taking her eyes off of the approaching man.

"Lisa! Long time, no see." He said, smiling brightly. He knelt down in front of her and placed his hands on her thighs. "I was hoping we could get some alone time…" He slid his hand under her skirt and proceeded to stroke against the thin cotton underwear she was wearing. Lisa let loose a frightened sound before biting her lip and trying desperately to keep her legs closed, but Riley was much stronger than she was. He kept them open with his torso, his right hand rubbing slow circles against her heated core and the other tightly groping her breast. Lisa was openly crying now. She tried to form the words needed to beg him to stop but she couldn't quite get any out. She tried to kick him away from her but he was too close and her blows went unnoticed. He continued his slow torture for a few more moments before slipping his fingers underneath her underwear and inside of her, exploring the very place Lisa had kept hidden for so long. She noticed his breathing pick up as he became increasingly more excited.

Suddenly Riley stopped and reached around to his back pocket, producing a long metal blade. Lisa sobbed heavily at the sight, memories flooding her system. Riley laughed at her reaction and proceeded to cut the ropes keeping her to the chair. Lisa was disgusted at the pure glee in his eyes.

He leaned in close, his mouth directly next to her ear. "This is going to be a long night, sweetheart." He glanced over his shoulder and looked upwards, and Lisa followed his gaze. It took her a moment to find what he was looking at, but she soon realized what it was and let out a gasp of horror. For the first time since being in the room, Lisa noticed through her tear filled eyes a small camera hanging from the ceiling. She closed her eyes and began to shut down against the overwhelming fear encompassing her system. _'Jackson, where are you?'_

**GREG**

Greg paid his taxi driver and stepped out of the car, rushing to get to the run-down apartment building in front of him. There was a police officer standing at the entrance who stopped him as he reached for the door handle. "Excuse me, sir. Do you live at this residence?"

"No, I'm here to meet with Detective Jones, she should be expecting me."

"You're Gregory O'Hara? May I see some ID, please?"

Greg handed the officer the appropriate material and was soon allowed entrance to the apartments. The elevator was out of service so he ran upstairs impatiently. As soon as he had heard where Lisa's last known location was, he asked for permission by the police to fly to Australia and meet with the head detective working on Lisa's case. He had to pay for all of his own expenses, of course, but he simply could not wait around in his house anymore. He needed to _do _something. Right now, he felt like a waste of space and an annoyance to Florida's Police Department, but that was the least of his worries. He was still overwhelmed with guilt for not being able to save Lisa, and he was determined to help in any way possible.

He reached the floor he was looking for and recognized the room by the yellow tape stripped across the open doorway. He gave the officer on guard his name and was soon greeted by a blonde haired woman in a professional skirt and suit jacket. "Mr. O'Hara?" She asked.

"Greg."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Detective Jones." They shook hands and she led him inside the apartment space which was cluttered with forensic teams.

"Have you found anything?" Greg asked.

"There's not much to go on. The fingerprints we found don't match up with any in our database, besides Lisa's of course. The place was cleaned out before we got here, we only found the place on an anonymous tip. Here," she reached over and handed him an evidence bag. Inside was a piece of computer paper with a short message written across it. '_I no longer have Lisa. Fedorov- 18294298K' _"We believe Rippner left this behind. We have heard of this name before, but like Rippner we have very little information on him."

"What are the numbers?"

"We aren't entirely sure. Our experts are looking into it now, but we think it's the Company code Fedorov is working for. This is extremely hard to find, having a code to a terrorist organization is practically unheard of. If this is what we think it is, we will have access to a lot of the Company's monetary transactions, it may help us figure out where they are keeping Lisa."

"Do you think she's alive?"

The woman sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure at this point. I have a feeling Rippner left this for us to help us find her, which means she was probably alive when he wrote this. It's been hours now though." She shook her head. Greg looked at the note again, completely at a loss for words. If Jackson didn't have her, there was no telling what was happening to her right now.

**JACKSON**

Almost two days had passed since Fedorov had taken Lisa. Immediately after his confrontation with Fedorov, Jackson had gone back to his apartment and gathered all of his important documents, documents that could potentially lead to his downfall if the police ever got their hands on them. He left a note and called in an anonymous tip to the local law station, giving them the information they needed to find his apartment and look into Fedorov's organization. He had been keeping an eye on the Police ever since and although they were nowhere near finding Lisa, they seemed to be making progress. He was sure Fedorov would have caught wind by now that the cops were looking into him. Hopefully he was too distracted with staying out of their line of sight that it would be easier for Jackson to find and kill him.

The real surprise for Jackson was Greg's appearance. He was still a little beaten up, but he had a determined air about him that Jackson had seen many times throughout his career. He was not worried about Greg becoming a bother – the man had absolutely no skill when it came to this area of expertise - but Jackson was sure that he would not stop looking for Lisa no matter what happened. Jackson was almost annoyed by the devotion this man showed for Lisa, but he shook it off. Now was not the time to entertain petty emotions.

Adam had gotten into contact with Jackson only a few hours after Lisa was taken and insisted that he fly out to help him, and as much as Jackson protested, he was actually a little relieved there was someone he could rely on at this point. Plus, Adam had always been much better at tracking people than Jackson was and he could use his expertise. So Adam had met Jackson in Sydney a day prior and ever since they had devoted their time to finding Fedorov's headquarters. They had very little - almost nothing, actually - to go on. Jackson had caught a glimpse of the last four characters on the SUV's license plate and Adam was in the process of sifting through all of the matching plate numbers in Australia through the DMV's database. Jackson lay back on the motel bed and closed his eyes, willing his headache to go away. They had been at this for hours now and they were no closer to finding Leese than they were a day ago.

"Wait, here's something!" Adam called out from his place at the desk. "A black vehicle has the plate numbers matching the ones you saw…oh wait…nevermind. That's four hundred miles from here…that doesn't make any sense. Sorry."

Jackson sighed and sat up, looking at the papers strewn across the bed. He decided that, because Fedorov _wanted_ Jackson to go looking for him, he would stay close to the area. That didn't help narrow the locations at all, though. The city they were staying in was filled with abandoned buildings and warehouses. There were plenty of places for a man to hide without fear of questioning.

Adam turned and saw Jackson rubbing his forehead in frustration. He got up and walked over to his friend and sat down next to him, sitting in silence for a few moments. "Why is this girl so important?" he finally asked. "What's stopping you from just running right now?"

Jackson had thought about this many times of course. But every time the thought passed through his head he saw an image of Lisa and immediately pushed the proposal away. He felt enormously guilty about putting Lisa through so much shit. He couldn't say why- if you had asked him a week ago how he felt about her he would have experienced an immediate surge of anger and explained to you how she had completely ruined his life. But recent events seemed to have put a lot of things in perspective for Jackson. He was still angry with her, of course. She caused him to fail the Keefe assignment which, in his opinion, was what ultimately got him into this mess. But there was no longer the underlying need to watch her suffer and die. And if she was going to die, Jackson would make sure hell froze over before Fedorov was the one to murder her. Lisa did not deserve the kind of death Fedorov was renowned for dealing out. She was better than that.

"Fedorov found me in a matter of days after I came to Australia. He'd just find me again."

"And the girl?"

Jackson stared at the wall in front of him. "I want to deal with her myself." He lied.

Adam simply nodded and after a moment of silence moved back over to his desk.

A few minutes later Jackson's phone buzzed. He reached over and saw a text from a private number. _"I'm not sure how much longer she can last…"_ It read. There was a video attachment which Jackson uploaded, his heart racing as he waited for the percent bar to reach 100. An image of a small room appeared. There was no sound but he recognized Lisa at once- she was tied to a chair, her body convulsing with unheard sobs. A few seconds later it skipped to another scene, this time with Fedorov sitting in front of Lisa and talking to her while another man beat her mercilessly. A few seconds later the scene was cut off by a third one, this one far more horrifying than the others. Lisa was laying on the floor while another man- who Jackson recognized from his earlier encounter with Fedorov- pounded into her, grabbing Lisa's hair and groping her chest while Lisa screamed in pain and embarrassment. This scene lasted much longer than the previous two. Jackson couldn't take his eyes away from the phone and he watched as Lisa was raped over and over again. Eventually the video ended and the screen went black.

Jackson hadn't noticed Adam standing over him until Adam grabbed the phone out of Jackson's limp hands. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Adam ran back over to his desk, grabbed a UBS cord out of his bag and plugged the phone into his computer. "This is exactly what we needed. Fedorov must really underestimate you; otherwise he wouldn't have contacted you electronically. We can trace this back to the location it was sent from. It'll be tricky, it's probably coded in like five hundred different sequences, but I've done this before. It should work."

Jackson shook himself out of his shock at seeing Lisa so used and vulnerable and walked to stand behind Adam. He had never been great with computers. He was taught hacking skills back when he was a rookie but the opportunity to use the skills never really came up in his line of fieldwork so he lost the ability a while back. Watching Adam work was like watching paint dry, in his opinion, but he had to admit Adam knew what he was doing. He typed in random words and numbers onto encrypted windows and clicked on seemingly meaningless buttons. It took him a while, but eventually Adam pointed at the screen triumphantly. His finger directed Jackson to a spot on a map, to a location he recognized immediately. "And that's where you'll find the bastard." Adam said, smiling widely.

"That's just outside the city, there's a whole bunch of warehouses there. I thought they were being used, though…Some company bought them out, a vitamin corporation…" Jackson stared at the map for a moment longer committing it to memory. "You're sure he's there?"

"That's where the signal came from. I can't guarantee he'll be there, but it's worth a shot."

Jackson nodded turned to begin gathering his things. He whipped open drawers and stacked up the papers on his bed, adrenaline coursing through his veins at finally making headway.

"Whoa, you can't just go in there guns a blazing! You need a plan!"

"I have a plan." Jackson said shortly. He grabbed a small metal safe, brought it over to the bed and opened it, producing a fine assortment of weapons.

"And what is that? Knock on his door and politely ask for Lisa back?"

"No." Jackson stowed a knife in the waistband of his pants and pulled out a gun. He loaded it with ammo and cocked the mechanism, wanting to be fully prepared for what he was about to do. "I'm going to kill Fedorov."

Adam rolled his eyes and made a 'oh yeah, cause that's so easy' gesture. "You realize that is a suicide mission, right?" he asked. Jackson ignored him and continued arming himself. Adam decided against trying to calm him down and reluctantly consented to gathering up weapons of his own. There was no way in hell he was going to dissuade Jackson from going to the warehouses, and there was equally no way he was going to let him go there by himself.

Suddenly Jackson stopped what he was doing and turned to face his friend. "Can you send something to Fedorov?"

"Electronically? Not without alerting him to our location…but if you don't care about that then yeah. What do you want to send him?"

Jackson smiled. It seemed like, for the first time in weeks, things were finally starting to look up for him.

**So if things go as planned, there are going to be two more chapters before this story is officially finished. Let me know what you think! REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW. Also, thank you for continuing to read this fanfic! I love you all so much for sticking with me :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi there! I know, long time no update. But hopefully people haven't given up on me. Here's a nice intriguing suspenseful action-filled chapter to keep you interested :) Enjoy!**

Jackson rolled down his window in an attempt to relieve the smothering heat in the car, but the air outside was motionless and the action succeeded only in making him more uncomfortable. Still, he swung his arm over the edge of the door and tried to be grateful for the shade the building next to them offered. Both Adam and he had been sitting in the vehicle for several hours now. The area they were in was enormous. Warehouses extended two miles in every direction; hundreds of buildings, varying in size and colors. They had narrowed Fedorov's position down to four possible buildings, but there had been no movement from any of them for hours.

Now that they were sitting here, mere feet away from their goal, Jackson was suddenly starting to feel anxious. He had no idea how many people were inside guarding Fedorov and their temporary location. He was still determined to finish this here and now, but his anger had started to wear off and it was just beginning to hit him how unprepared they were for an attack. But for the amount of time they had to organize themselves, Jackson was relatively happy with the plan they had made. Adam had eventually been able to fully hack into the system Fedorov was using, meaning he had complete access to almost all of their files and internet history. He had copied the security tape of the room Lisa was in and when the time came they would be able to switch it with the live feed, creating the appearance that Lisa was still in the room even after they had gotten her out. That should buy them some time. Other than that, they were mostly relying on luck. It would only be a matter of time before Fedorov realized someone was in the building but at that point it wouldn't matter. They hopefully would have gotten Lisa out by then and Jackson would already be in the process of tracking down and killing the bastard.

He glanced over at Adam, sizing him up. Back in the old days, although he was considered a tech nerd of the criminal world, Adam had been in incredible shape. The fact that he preferred spending his time in front of a computer didn't mean he couldn't kill someone when the time presented itself. He had actually accompanied Jackson on a job once and although it had been one of his first times in the field, Jackson couldn't deny that the man had some talent. He had successfully terminated two targets in impressive time- for a tech guy. Looking at him now, even though he obviously was not in as good of shape as he used to be, Jackson was confident that he could handle what they were about to attempt.

Even then, though, Jackson knew they were no match for a small army of Russian assassins. The only shot they had of surviving this would be to sneak in and remain unnoticed for as long as possible, then kill everyone in sight once they were discovered.

He wondered what Fedorov's reaction would be after he listened to the files they were about to send him. He was sure there was a part of Fedorov that knew Jackson wasn't involved. Why he continued going after him would always remain a mystery to Jackson. He hoped the motherfucker at least got nervous seeing that they could hack into their private files.

Just then a door opened on one of the three warehouses they were watching. A man walked out and rested against the wall. Jackson and Adam both sat up straight and watched as the man brought a cigarette up to his mouth and leaned his head back against the brick as a plume of smoke drifted across his lips. Jackson smiled- the man was dressed entirely in black, the same outfit the assassins who had taken Lisa were wearing just a few days earlier. They both waited in silence until the man crushed his cigarette against the wall and went back inside. Jackson nodded towards the building. "You ready?" he asked.

Adam pulled open his laptop and fiddled with it for a moment before he nodded himself and closed the top. "They're sent. They should get them in about five minutes."

"And the security tape?"

"It's switched."

Jackson reached behind into the backseat, grabbed his guns and handed one to Adam. Jackson stashed his in the waistband of his pants right near his knife. "You know the plan?"

Adam nodded in consent. "Get the girl and bring her back to the car. If you're not here by then, wait ten minutes before leaving and you'll catch up."

"Good. Let's get going before they know we're here." He opened the door but stopped suddenly and somewhat reluctantly turned back towards Adam. "Hey," he said. Jackson swallowed. He had never been very good with this. A moment of silence fell between the two before Jackson finally opened his mouth again. "Thanks." Without waiting for a response, Jackson opened his door and quietly got out of the car, took a deep breath, and ran forward.

* * *

Lisa lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling blankly. Her whole body was in agonizing pain and she hadn't moved from her position for hours now. Images of her first night here kept replaying in her head, but she found the best way to ignore them was to count. She counted until she forgot what number she was on and then started all over again. That was how she had spent the last day and half. But it wasn't always that easy to keep the memories at bay and sometimes they cropped back into her mind. This happened to be one of those miserable times.

She lifted her head slightly to survey her body. It was obvious at least one of her ribs was broken- the entire area was a dark purple and every time she moved all of the air in her lungs would disappear. The rest of her body was covered in small bruises and cuts. Lisa had learned the hard way that Riley was very fond of his knife. He had used it not only to cut up her shirt but to cut pretty designs across her body as well. Most of them weren't that deep, just deep enough to draw a small amount of blood. Two were particularly bad though and hadn't stopped bleeding since she had received them- one across the length of her left cheek and another on her upper thigh. She prayed they wouldn't scar, but of course she had no way of knowing. She gingerly touched the one on her cheek and pulled back her fingers, wincing. She had received that one after she punched Riley in the eye. She decided the look of shock that had crossed his face was worth the excruciating pain that came as a result of her feistiness.

She let her head fall back against the floor again and closed her eyes. _'One…two…three…four…five…six…'_

She stopped and stared back up at the ceiling. It wasn't working. She was too stressed; unwanted thoughts kept creeping into her mind. He heart was pounding in anxiety at the thought that Riley could walk through the door at any moment, straddle her against the floor and give her that amused smirk before lifting her skirt up once again. Just the thought drained her. She could still smell him on her, still feel his hands groping her stomach, thighs, hips…Lisa reached up and wiped away a solitary tear she hadn't realized she'd shed. She had sworn to herself that this would never happen again, that a man would never violate her in any way. And yet here she was, bruised and broken on the floor of a warehouse, sticky with her own blood and evidence of Riley's arousal. This was all Jackson's fault. If he had just been a bigger man and let his failure go she wouldn't be here. Better yet if he hadn't held her hostage on that plane, she'd still be home right now, her life in order and boring as ever. She would give almost anything to be on her couch right now, picking at a plate of freshly made eggs and watching a crappy movie she had seen a hundred times before.

She was angry at Jackson, of course- enraged, really- but at the same time she kind of missed him. At least she knew what made him angry, and she was sure he would never go to the lengths Fedorov and Riley had gone to. The enemy you know. That's what she missed.

A clicking noise at the door brought Lisa out of her thoughts and her stomach dropped. She sat up in fear, ignoring the pain that shot through her body. A second later the door swung open and an unfamiliar man raced in, rushed towards Lisa and grabbed her arm without a word. Fear took over Lisa's movements and she pounded her fists against the man. "No! Let me go, bastard, no no no-"

The man covered her mouth roughly, but there was an obvious look of concern on his face. Lisa was now trapped between him and the wall. He heart hurt from how hard it was pounding against her chest.

"Shhh, It's ok! I'm gonna get you out of here. I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth- don't scream, ok?" Lisa hesitated before nodding slightly, confused but suddenly hopeful. He slowly pulled his hand away as promised and Lisa kept her voice quiet. "Who are you?" she asked.

The man quickly glanced over his shoulder, clearly in a rush, but he answered her question. "My name is Adam, I'm a friend of Jackson's."

As soon as Lisa heard that she let out a breath of relief. Jackson had come for her! She wasn't going to die!

"If we want to get out of here in one piece we need to leave now. Are you ok to walk?"

Lisa nodded her head. At this point she was ok to fly. She put a hand against the wall for support as she lifted herself up off the ground, and Adam put his arm around her waist to help her. The contact sent a jolt of fear through Lisa, especially because her shirt was completely torn up and a good amount of skin was visible. But she reminded herself that the man was only here to help her and anyway she was in too much pain to protest.

Adam led her to the door and handed her a knife. "Here," he said. "You'll need this." Lisa held it heavily, unsure of how to handle it. Finally she stashed it in the waistband of her skirt and underwear, happy that the combined elastic was strong enough to keep it in place. "No one knows we're here but it shouldn't take much longer for them to find out. Don't be afraid to use it. On other people…not me." He clarified.

Lisa looked at him in shock. "They don't know you're here? When will they know? How are we going to get out?"

Adam laughed. "Jackson warned me you were big on the questions."

Lisa was not at all amused at how lightly he seemed to be taking the situation. "Do you have a plan at least?"

"Yeah. Don't get shot."

With that he grabbed her arm and led her through the door and down the hallway. The warehouse seemed to be one big maze of hallways and doors, there was hardly any open space at all. At every corner Adam would glance around the wall and move forward only after making sure it was clear to do so. Lisa was surprised at how empty the warehouse seemed to be. Admittedly the place was huge, she supposed there could be dozens of people wandering around that they just were not passing, but the more reasonable answer seemed to be that there simply weren't too many people in the building at all. Not that she felt much better about the idea of possibly running into someone, but still it was surprising.

At one corner Adam leaned against the wall and pushed Lisa back up against it as well. "Ok, this is where it gets tricky." He said. He reached into his pocket and took out a small metal cylinder. At one end a small piece of glass covered what looked like a miniature light bulb.

"What is that? A laser?" Lisa asked.

"Kind of. Infrared light." He peeked around the corner before continuing. "There's a security camera at the far end of this hallway. This sucker should disable it for a few seconds so we can past, but they'll know someone is in the building after we do it."

"You didn't use it to get in here?"

"No, I came a different way, it was much safer. You would never make it in the condition you're in though. This route is slightly more conspicuous, but definitely less physically straining." He took a deep breath. "Stay close to me, we'll only have about five seconds to get down the hallway. Ready?"

Lisa nodded and Adam immediately got to work. He slowly peered around the corner so he was barely visible and clicked a button on the laser. He kept his hand steady for about ten seconds before grabbing Lisa and running down the hallway. They reached the end safely, but their run had caused Lisa to collapse against the wall in pain and completely out of breath. Her hand grasped her side in an effort to relieve the burning but the pressure only made it worse. Adam reached out and slowly pulled aside her tattered shirt to reveal her bruised chest.

"Shit…" he whispered. He stared at it for another moment before his expression turned hard and he grabbed her chin. "We have to do that two more times. You're gonna have to keep up with me, ok? I'm not going to die because you couldn't run fast enough. As soon as we get out of here we'll patch you up, but for now, suck it up and keep moving. Got it?"

Without waiting for a response he grabbed her arm and dragged her forward.

Lisa somehow managed to make it down another hallway. They were halfway through their last run when suddenly the silence was shattered by a shrill alarm. Blue lights that hung from the walls starting blinking rapidly and Lisa almost passed out in panic. "Stay with me, Lisa!" Adam said as he dragged her roughly behind him.

They turned a corner and two men were blocking their way, running straight for them. Adam shoved Lisa to the side and took out his gun. Lisa hit the wall and blacked out for a moment, but when she came to just a second later both of the men were lying on the floor in a puddle of blood just mere inches from where she lay. Adam picked Lisa up and continued dragging her through the halls. Finally they turned a corner and flew down a flight of stairs, at the bottom of which was an emergency exit. Lisa almost cried in happiness as they flung through the door and out into the sunlight.

Adam directed her through the maze of buildings before they reached a dark car. Lisa gratefully slumped into the seat when he opened the door for her. She was completely out of breath. The cut on her thigh had begun to bleed again and her entire leg was covered in red. She was sure the one on her cheek had opened again as well but she was too exhausted to check and her body was in too much pain to register any feeling in her face.

Adam had gotten into the driver's seat and threw a bottle of water onto her lap. He reached into the glove department and pushed some papers aside before grabbing a bottle and closing the lid. He faced Lisa and held out his hand. "Here," he said. Lisa glanced into his palm and saw three pills lying there. "Take these. They'll help with the pain." Lisa gratefully did what she was told, drinking half of the bottle in one sip, and closed her eyes. A few blissful moments of silence passed before Lisa felt her skirt being pushed up. Her eyes flew open and she immediately flung her arm out, her fist connecting with Adam's face. "What are you doing?" she screamed.

Adam put his one hand up in surrender, the other rubbing his jaw. "I'm not going to do anything to you, but you need to get that cut covered before you pass out from blood loss. I can't have you unconscious right now."

"I'm fine!" Lisa pulled her skirt down tightly over her legs.

Adam threw the bandages onto her lap. "Here, you can do it yourself, I don't care. But you have to cover it _now_."

Lisa hesitated. She admitted her leg was pretty bad, but there was no way in hell she was going to let this man see her any more naked than she already was.

"Turn around." She said.

Adam sighed but did as she asked. A few minutes and a few shed tears later, Lisa had successfully bandaged her thigh and tried her best to clean her face and neck of any dried blood. Adam turned around without asking whether she was finished, checked the clock, and put the keys in the ignition.

"Wait, where's Jackson?" Lisa was starting to get nervous. Maybe he was lying to her, she had no proof Adam was actually friends with Jackson. What if he was going to kidnap her too? She didn't have the strength or patience to go through that again- if that was his plan she thought it might be better to stay here and just let Fedorov kill her. But he seemed decent, and he hadn't tried to hurt her yet…maybe she was overreacting.

"He'll catch up." Adam said dismissively. He put the car in drive and together they began weaving their way through the lots. Eventually the wailing sirens coming from Fedorov's location dimmed and Lisa began to relax. She felt hopeful for the first time in days. She should have known the feeling wouldn't last though. They drove for maybe five minutes in silence, still within the compound, before a shot sounded and the car lurched. Adam cursed and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, but another shot rang out and within a span of three seconds both of their back tires had blown out. Lisa screamed and threw herself as far down in her seat as possible and Adam continued pushing the car forward, but the speed of their vehicle was no match for the speed of the one approaching them. It slammed into the back of their car and Lisa was flung forward from the impact, but Adam kept going. The vehicle behind them pulled forward and drove parallel to Adam's side. A man leaned out of the window and before Lisa could register what was happening, Adam had pushed her aside and the sound of gun fire filled the air. The car swerved and crashed into the side of a warehouse, successfully ending the chase.

Lisa moaned against the intense pain coursing through her body. She pulled herself up from the tangled position she had landed in and blearily glanced over at Adam. His eyes fluttered against unconsciousness, but other than that he seemed to be ok. But a closer look told a different story. Blood was dripping down his arm at an alarming speed, and the realization soon hit Lisa that he had been shot. She didn't have too long to let the idea sink in, though- her side door flew open and a pair of hands dragged her roughly out of the car. "No! Don't…" She tried to scream, but she was disoriented and the words came out slurred. She lashed out, kicking her leg back hoping to make contact with something solid, but the action caused her to immediately become light headed. She fell limply in the man's arms and was able to focus only on the ringing in her ears. The man wrapped his arm around her waist and painfully lugged her back to the vehicle that had chased them down. She was thrown into the backseat beside another man, and not long after Adam was thrown in behind her. Lisa was having a hard time focusing on much of anything. But she knew she was in trouble. She wasn't far gone enough not to recognize the fear coursing through her veins. It had become an old friend at this point, the most reliable feeling she'd experienced for weeks.

The man on her left pulled her close to him. Lisa's heart stopped- she recognized that smell…_'Oh God, oh God, no please…' _

Riley leaned in and his warm breath hit her ear. "Going so soon, sweetheart?" Lisa whimpered and weakly pushed against his chest, but there was simply nothing she could do to stop his lips as they traveled down the side of her neck.

The car turned and sped back to where Fedorov waited for her, surely with a gun in hand.

**Okey dokey smokeys. This was mostly Lisa and Adam, the next chapter is going to be mostly Jackson and Fedorov….we'll see how it goes actually. I'll try to work faster for you, but I know I can't promise anything…Please please please please pleeease review! It truly does make my day :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi! I know. Crazy long time. I've missed beautiful you. But just the other day I was looking through my documents and found this story and decided to finish it. So please forgive me for any plot holes or whatever- I tried my best, but honestly it has been a ridiculously long time. I hope people will still read! **

* * *

"_Good. Let's get going before they know we're here." He opened the door but stopped suddenly and somewhat reluctantly turned back towards Adam. "Hey," he said. Jackson swallowed. He had never been very good with this. A moment of silence fell between the two before Jackson finally opened his mouth again. "Thanks." Without waiting for a response, Jackson opened his door and quietly got out of the car, took a deep breath, and ran forward. _

Getting in wasn't the problem. They had seen the blueprints that were used to build all of the surrounding warehouses; they were each set up the same. He ran around the side of the warehouse, hoping not to run into any stray workers; although they had worked out a pretty decent plan, they were still relying mainly on luck to get them through alive.

Finally he came across an entrance out of direct view of the main driveway. None of the doorways had standby guards- the security was shoddy at best, with just a security camera (which Adam had disconnected) and a card swipe to enter. He quickly screwed a silencer onto the barrel of his gun and tucked it away in the waistline of his pants before testing the strength of the swipe machine. Deciding it wasn't too strong to give him problems, he delivered to it a solid hit with the edge of his elbow. The thing shook, but held firm. Several attacks later, the plastic covering gave in and he was able to slide it slowly away from the wall, revealing a multitude of red, green, and blue wires.

After years of both government and terrorist training, it doesn't take long to identify the wires needed in any machine in order to start it, as well as disable it. The same concept goes for any product, and this card swipe was no different. Within a matter or seconds Jackson was able to pinpoint which wires were needed in order to hear the telling _'beep beep' _of the doorway, signaling he had successfully gained entrance into the building. He quietly opened the door and slid in, pulling out his gun as he did so.

Almost immediately after entering he was spotted. A man dressed all in black was standing at the end of the hallway Jackson had just walked into. He yelled something incoherent before running towards him, reaching for his gun. Jackson had the advantage, seeing as his gun was already in his hand, and began running towards the assailant, aiming while he did so. He shot the man cleanly in the forehead and, just as he was trained to do, caught the body just before it hit the ground, gently lying him down as to avoid too much noise.

He walked over to the corner and peeked around the edge. The two hallways in sight seemed to be empty, so Jackson cautiously crept forward. He repeated this action for a few more hallways before he found what he was looking for- a small supply closet. He slipped in and immediately let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It took everything he had not to just go find Lisa himself right now. The thought that she was bleeding, crying, dying somewhere in this building was killing him. Not because he didn't want her die- at least, he thought he still wanted her to. He just knew she didn't deserve to go this way.

He checked the safety on the gun then strode to the opposite end of the closet, where he knew after studying the blueprints for days that a vent was built into the wall. Crawling through the vents was a cliché and, in some people's opinions, rookie move, but he had to admit it actually worked. He'd done it once before on an assignment in France quite successfully, and although he had probably put on a few pounds since that day the time and team limitations for this mission narrowed their options considerably. So, instead of thinking about what his ex-boss would be saying to him right about now, he quickly unscrewed the grate from the wall and, using a bucket for the extra height, pulled himself into the confined area.

The trick with ventilation systems is trying to stay quiet. It's exceptionally easy to bang an elbow or knee into the metal and have the noise echo all through the building. Normally, that'd be a pretty easy feat for Jackson, but his anxiety was starting to get the better of him and he had to remind himself on several occasions to slow down.

The vents were smaller than he had remembered them being in France. He was lying almost entirely on his stomach, crawling through the maze of metal hoping he had remembered the blueprints correctly. _Right, left, straight left, left…_Finally he reached what he hoped to be Fedorov's office. He crawled forward till his face was close enough to the vent to see down into the room, and sure enough Fedorov was there yelling at two of his men in fluent Russian.

"I don't care what it takes, get a team together immediately and find him!"

"Sir, we don't even know if he's on the territory. The signal is unclear."

"I do not pay you to make excuses. Get out of my office."

The two men hurried out of the office and slammed the door. Fedorov spit out a few choice curse words before sitting down at his desk. Jackson got his gun ready. From here on out he was kind of playing it by ear. He couldn't just fall into the room; just because that worked for Connor and Murphy doesn't mean it could happen in real life. He needed to think. He didn't have too much time, something had to happen fast.

Then Fedorov stood up. He gathered some papers together and moved out from behind the desk, and Jackson knew what to do. He scooched forward and slid the barrel of his gun in between the slits in the vents. It didn't really fit, but there was just enough room to let the barrel entrance through for the bullet to pass. As Fedorov made his way across the room, Jackson made aim and pulled the trigger. The man immediately collapsed to the floor, yelling a gargled noise and clutching his leg tightly.

"Gotchya."

* * *

Four men escorted Lisa and Adam through the winding hallways of the warehouse. Riley kept one arm wrapped around Lisa's waist and the other grasping her elbow tightly. Adam was beside Lisa, clutching his arm close to his body. He had been shot twice and was losing an enormous amount of blood every passing second. He looked pale, but he held his head high and walked in the middle of the group. Another man kept a gun trained on his back, even though the gesture was unnecessary. Adam was in no condition to attempt an escape. Lisa supposed it was for appearances.

She knew she was going to die. Honestly, she was surprised she had lasted this long. So as the group made their way through the building, Lisa tried her best to mentally prepare herself for death. Of course she had no idea how to go about doing this. Her life wasn't flashing before her eyes, there were no sudden inspirational realizations being made. She tried to think of all of her most treasured experiences- a beach picnic with her family when she was twelve, her first kiss at fourteen, studying abroad in Europe, her twenty first birthday party- but for some reason the awful memories she had tried daily not to think about kept popping up. The death of her brother, the day her parents told her they were getting divorced, her rape, Jackson gripping her throat in the bathroom of an airplane, her multiple kidnappings, Riley straddling her chest and carving his mark into her face…_'Shit,' _she thought, _'my life has kind of sucked.' _She almost laughed. Almost. Instead she worked on keeping the tears from falling down her face. She would rather die than cry in front of Riley. The irony was clear, but still, she promised herself she would never let Riley see her cry again. She thought of Greg, of how they could have had a chance together if not for Jackson. She thought of how her life could have been different if she had never parked in that garage, if she had just taken a different flight to Miami, if she had killed Jackson when she had the chance. So many missed opportunities, so many mistakes. She turned her head to the side to hide her glistening eyes from the man holding her tightly.

Riley noticed her movement though and tightened his grip on her waist. He leaned in close and buried his nose into her hair all the while keeping a steady pace towards the room Lisa knew would be the last one she'd ever see.

Eventually they stopped at a door. The man in the front knocked, waited, and then knocked again. When no one answered, he glanced back at Riley who nodded slightly and he opened the door. A shot fired and the man fell back, blood already beginning to pool around his still figure. Riley pulled Lisa in front of him. She didn't see him grab for it but suddenly there was a gun pushing against the soft of her temple. The two other men pulled out their own weapons and rushed inside, ready to shoot anyone in sight, and almost immediately another of them fell to the floor in a puddle of blood. It was quiet for another minute before Riley nodded his head at Adam who weakly walked across the threshold, and Riley followed keeping Lisa as a shield.

As soon as they entered, Lisa's breath caught in her throat. Fedorov was standing in the middle of the room, glaring at the incoming group, while Jackson stood behind him holding a pistol firmly against his cheek. They both looked a little worse for the wear; Fedorov's right leg was bleeding profusely and his face was pale white, and Jackson had a small gash under his eye leaking blood down his face. But the smirk that crossed his features was the most prominent thing in the room. Lisa let out a breath of relief and felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. _'He's back…'_

"I'd put that gun down if I were you, Riley, unless you want your boss blown to pieces."

Riley tightened his grip on Lisa's arm but besides that you would never know he was flustered. "It's one against two Rippner, you really think the odds are in your favor here?"

Jackson laughed. "Do you honestly think I was able to sneak into your secure building and get ahold of your very well guarded boss all by myself? I thought you'd have more brains than that, kid."

That made Riley pause, but Lisa knew better, and she was pretty sure Riley did too. Even if Jackson did have others with him, he currently had two guns trained on him, albeit if hesitantly. She knew he was working alone (minus Adam, who was now leaning on the doorway struggling to keep his eyes open), but it was a mystery to her as to how he got in the building, let alone Fedorov's private office.

"Let the girl go and you get your boss back."

"I don't think I'm going to do that. I've become quite fond of your little friend here, I think I might keep her."

Jackson's jaw clenched. "Well that's too bad then, I guess we're at an impasse."

The silence that followed was so intense Lisa's ears started to ring. Riley and the man standing next to him never once took their eyes off of Jackson. At one point Fedorov stirred as if he were about to say something, but Jackson simply dug his gun further into the man's cheek, shushing him quietly. Lisa's heart was pounding. She could barely gather her thoughts, and the smell of blood in the room didn't help her any. After a minute or so, she felt the gun move slowly from her temple, down the side of her face, and settle under her chin, pushing her head back slightly. Riley moved his mouth next to her ear.

"It's a shame, really. What a waste. I would have loved to keep you." He cocked the gun and Lisa let out a sob.

"Shoot her and everyone in this room dies." Jackson, too, cocked his gun, holding Fedorov tightly against him.

Riley laughed. He leaned forward and kissed Lisa softly on her forehead. "Bye, dollface."

And then a gun was fired.

* * *

**Please leave a review! :D **


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